No More Broken Dreams
by TheCrownprincessBride
Summary: Hermione is still recovering from her destructive marriage to Viktor Krum when she meets her new colleague Draco Malfoy, who somehow manages to break down her protective walls. But how could it possibly work: Ex-Death Eater and War Heroine? Won't her secrets destroy their relationship in the end? Or could she this time have all she ever dreamed of?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter - this applies to all following chapters!

 **A/N: Hi guys, as promised my new story. It was actually written before Roadtrip, but it desperately needed a beta. Thanks to TheDaringInferno for the great job!**

 **[Edit 26.02.: I only changed a few mistakes in punctuation. All following chapters will be edited shortly.]**

 **Enough from me - entrance of our heroine...**

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1\. New beginnings

The golden sunset illuminated Hermione's kitchen, bathing it in warm, fiery light. With her tea in one hand, she stood at the window and watched as the sun slowly ascended over the horizon. She was up early, as usual, and therefore had enough time to watch the morning spectacle. It always managed to help her to calm down a bit.

Today was the first day of her new job as Junior Assistant to the Head of the Magical Law Enforcement department. Before that she'd been working in an under department of the Wizengamot, in cooperation with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. She was proud of the work she had done there; she had introduced a large amount of reforms, many for house elf rights as well as a few improvements to the Werewolf Acts. Now she would be working in a completely new field, collaborating with the heads of various offices. She was particularly happy to be working closer with Harry, who had been made Head of the Auror Office not two months ago.

She even had her own office now, a place she could floo directly to. Having spent the last four months familiarising herself with the new job, she was now on her own. Bob Singer, the former Junior Assistant, had switched over to the Department of Security.

Motivated, she put her cup down, and moved towards the floo in her home. She grabbed her bag and a handful of floo powder and cried out, "Ministry of Magic, MLE Department, Hermione Granger's office."

In a whirlwind of green and black she landed roughly on the cream carpet of her new office. She had just put her things in order, when the voice of her secretary announced that the Head of the Auror's Office was asking for her. A second later, someone knocked on the door.

"Come in, Harry," she said and stood up. Harry, hair as unruly as ever, stormed in grinning widely.

"Good morning, Hermione. Nice office you got here. Better than mine anyway." She walked around her desk, pulling Harry into a hug.

"It isn't, Harry. It's exactly the same." She laughed and pulled back to look at her friend.

"But you have a cream carpet, 'Mione. Mine's _green_ ," he whined, but the twinkling in his eyes told her that he was only joking.

"If you have a problem with green carpets, Potter, then give me the office and you can have my desk in exchange," sneered a familiar voice behind them.

Harry spun around, annoyance flashing in his eyes. "Malfoy, to what do we owe the pleasure?"

Hermione's gaze moved between the two of them. She didn't really know what kind of professional relationship Harry and Malfoy had. If she had to place it she would say it was a mix of quiet professionalism and a detached sense of appreciation. Still she had never really seen him in her previous department, so she was rather surprised he'd even shown up.

"I wanted to congratulate Granger, of course. Sorry, forgot the flowers. Can I come in?" She realised that he was waiting in the doorframe, he wouldn't enter until she let him.

"Mr. Malfoy, what can I help you with?" She nodded and Malfoy finally stepped into her office.

"Oh, nothing much. Just wanted to say _hello_." He smiled charmingly. "We'll be working closely now so please, don't call me Mr. Malfoy. I am _not_ my father."

She frowned, confused. "But, aren't you working in the Department of Intoxicating Substances? As far as I remember the Head is –"

"Nancy King. Yes, she is. But I'm her personal assistant and I will be your connection to our department. That's why I stopped by." His eyes flashed towards Harry for a second before going back to her.

"Oh. Thank you," she answered, dumbfounded. He looked just the same as he did at Hogwarts; same platinum blond hair, same ice grey eyes, same (if not more modern) black robes, and the same smirk on his face. But he had been nothing but polite to her and she was fairly certain, he'd changed his old pureblood views after the war.

"Okay, then. I'll leave you be. If you need anything, send a memo to my office–" He nodded, turning to leave.

"I thought you didn't have an office," she interjected.

"Well, you're right, it's only a desk, but still." He smiled, shaking his head. "Anyway, it was nice to see you, Granger. Potter."

Harry nodded politely and Malfoy disappeared out of the door.

"He was…" Hermione started, staring at her friend.

"Different?" he suggested, smiling warmly. "He is. Bit of a womanizer since his break-up with Astoria but… he's a good person."

"I would never have thought I'd hear you say that," she laughed and Harry pouted.

"Well, if you'd told me that, say ten years ago, I would've declared you mad. It's easy working with him. We're not exactly friends, but there's no animosity between us. He actually apologised to me and Ron. I guess he'll do the same to you, now that you're working together."

She looked down at her hands. "How should I react?"

Harry took her hands. "Look at me, Mione. You don't have to worry, he'll be nothing but polite. If not, I'll kick his ass." She smiled slightly and looked up into her friend's eyes. "I know, last year was very hard for you, but, you'll get through this, okay?"

She nodded, still feeling uncertain.

"OKAY?" Harry repeated forcefully.

"Okay!" she answered.

"Good. You know, you can come to me, if something's wrong." She nodded and Harry finally relaxed, letting go of her hands.

"I know," she reassured him. She knew she could trust him, after everything that had happened last year with Viktor there was no way she couldn't. "How's Ginny? Has James recovered from his cold?"

"Yeah, they and Albus are fine. Andromeda's currently taking care of them, 'cause Ginny's investigating for her new article about the Falmouth Falcons. They have a new Chaser and–"

Hermione hold up her hand. "Quidditch, really?"

He looked at her apologetically. "I'm sorry, Mione, I didn't think…" He sighed. "Sorry."

"No worries. We have to work now. As the Head of your department, you can't stay in my office for twenty minutes, just chatting."

"Well, I just did." He grinned. "Meet you and Ron for lunch at one, kay?" He didn't wait for her to confirm the appointment, but simply strolled out of the office.

Shaking her head, she sat down at her desk and began to sort through her papers. However she didn't really get anything done, since every few minutes one of the Heads of this or that department came into her office to introduce themselves formally and to get her up-to-date with the latest news. She was just about to leave for her lunch break with Harry and Ron, when a memo turned up on her desk. Curiously she opened it.

It was from Draco Malfoy.

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 **I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. Leave me your thoughts, please.**  
 **And I feel the need to warn you - I have a predilection for cliffhangers :P**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hi guys, here we are again! I forgot to tell you last chapter that I like to put in Easter Eggs or references to TV shows or films. Last chapter it was Supernatural. Did anyone get it? This time it is a British film (the title could be a hint).  
** **Enjoy!**

 **[Edit 26.02.: Again, only punctuation for the dialogue was changed.]**

* * *

 _She was just about to leave for her lunch break with Harry and Ron, when a memo turned up on her desk. Curiously she opened it._

 _It was from Draco Malfoy._

* * *

2\. Actually Love ...?

It was just a short note, written in his elegant handwriting:

 _Dear Ms. Granger,_

 _I am hoping to tempt you with a lunch with me today or tomorrow. 1 pm.?_

 _Sincerely,_

 _D. Malfoy_

For a second she stared at it, totally surprised. Then she gathered her wits and answered quickly. With a tap of her wand the memo disappeared, only to arrive seconds later with the confirmation of her lunch appointment for the next day.

On the way to meet Harry and Ron, she tried to process everything that had happened today. Most of the Heads had welcomed her with open arms, after all she was a war heroine. But Draco Malfoy simply wouldn't disappear from her mind.

* * *

Draco Malfoy sat at his desk, trying to review the latest law that demanded the declaration of ingredients in common potions, but in reality he was thinking about Hermione Granger. He knew she worked in the MLE and he had read about her marriage with Viktor Krum in the papers, but other than that, he knew nothing about her. 26 years old and already she was a Junior Assistant.

He shook his head and tried to concentrate on the first paragraph of the legislature but after the second word, his mind wandered off. She'd worn dress robes today, probably to impress the more conservative Heads, and he couldn't deny that she had looked fantastic. He didn't really know what to expect from her, so he tried to be polite. And when she had smiled self-consciously at him, he had felt the familiar fluttering of butterfly wings in his stomach.

"This is so unfortunate." He sighed deeply. "Why now? Why _her_?" Potter would make mincemeat of him, if he knew.

Sighing again, he put the paper down and walked over to the lab of his friend and co-worker Blaise Zabini, who was experimenting with the latest potions.

"Hey, mate. Wanna grab some lunch?" he asked innocently.

"You know that you can't just waltz in here. Something could've exploded," snapped Blaise as he pulled his safety goggles down.

"But nothing happened," Draco defended himself.

"This time," Blaise countered darkly. Draco rolled his eyes, watching his friend stabilize the potion he was working on.

"So, what about lunch?"

Blaise sighed but stepped away from his cauldron. "I'm coming." They left together for the café they usually frequented.

"So, what's going on?" Blaise asked when they finally sat down.

"Nothing," Draco replied a tad too quickly.

"Something _is_ going on. You're doing that thing."

Draco looked at his friend in confusion. "What thing?" Blaise looked pointedly at the blonde's fingers, which had been playing with the hems of his robe.

"Okay, okay," Draco said, lifting his hands from his robes. "I met Hermione Granger today."

"Oh? Is she as hot as in the papers?" Blaise asked interestedly. Draco looked sharply at him.

" _What_?"

Draco grimaced and looked away from his friend. "She is, but that's not the point."

"Ah," Blaise said, frowning, "Explain."

Draco winced a little under Blaise's critical look. "Ah, she… we're working together now."

Blaise nodded, trying to encourage Draco to tell him more. "I know, you told me last week. _And_?"

Draco huffed. "Damn it, Blaise! I don't know what to do with her. We went to school together so long ago, she must be a completely different person by now!"

"I bet she is," Blaise said solemnly.

"What do you know about that?" Draco inquired curtly.

"I read the papers, mate. She was married to Krum, that famous Quidditch player. But last year they got a divorce. All I know is that it ended badly. He abruptly left for Bulgaria and I don't think they are still in contact. Potter kept everything out of the papers, but some things were leaked out. Apparently they had a huge fight, because of his drinking. So she left."

"That's all?" Draco drawled, hoping that he didn't sound too disappointed.

"What more do you want to know?" He narrowed his eyes. "Why do you want to know about her personal life, anyway?"

"Never mind!" Draco snapped, not meeting his friend's gaze.

Blaise's eyes widened in realization and he looked at his friend with mix of horror and amusement. "No, Draco, no, no, no! Bad idea!"

Draco frowned at his friend,"What?" he snapped exasperated.

"You fancy her, mate. Potter'll kill you." Blaise chuckled, "Do I get your antique manuscripts?"

"Shut up. You won't get anything, because I don't fancy her. I'm just… interested."

Blaise snorted. "Do I look like Longbottom to you? I'm not that gullible, mate. So, what's the plan?"

"There is no plan, idiot," Draco growled.

"When'll you see her again?"

"Tomorrow," he admitted. "For lunch. I need to clarify some things…" he trailed off, seeming dejected.

"Things?" Blaise dug deeper.

„I never talked to her after graduation and before… I really never got 'round to apologise," Draco whispered and stared at his hands.

"Don't worry. Just use some of that infamous Malfoy charm and she'll fall for you."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Not helping, Blaise. This's serious. I have to work with her."

"Oh, come on, mate. Just be yourself tomorrow and everything else'll work out by itself," Blaise recommended, winking.

"How's your girlfriend, by the way?" Draco hastily changed the subject, not wanting to dwell on the idea of him and Granger together.

"The not existent one? – She's great!" Blaise sniggered.

"I thought you and Tracey had a thing going on. What did you do?" Draco asked, narrowing his eyes.

Blaise shrugged noncommittally before standing. "Nothing. Lunch time's over. We'd better go." He rushed to the exit. Shaking his head, Draco followed.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hi guys, here is chapter 3 for you. It's a bit longer than the previous ones. Virtual chocolate to everyone who spots the allusions to my 2 favourite British TV shows.**  
 **Virtual chocolate as well to my beta _TheDaringInferno_ for revising my work ;)**

 **Oh, and please leave me a review. I'd love to know what you think. *puppyeyes***

 **[edited 13.03.]**

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3\. Lunch date

Nervously Hermione tapped her quill against her desk and glanced up at the clock for the millionth time today. Impossible! It was still only half past 12. She had put extra care in her clothing and her make-up today, although she wasn't really sure why. She didn't need to impress anyone, especially _him_. Still… on one hand, she still heard the insults whispered in her ear, telling her she was ugly and that nobody would ever like her and on the other hand she _did_ find him quite attractive. Either way a little extra care never did anyone any harm.

She didn't know how she managed to survive until 1pm, but suddenly her secretary announced Draco Malfoy was waiting for her. Immediately she felt her breathing accelerate and panic creep into her.

"You can do this!" she said out loud and put her wand in its holster, so she'd have it in her fingers in seconds. Then she checked herself in the mirror, grabbed her bag, and dashed out of her office.

Malfoy was waiting for her in one of the chairs in front of her office, but jumped up as soon as she entered. His face mirrored her nervous expression and she smiled slightly.

"Amelia, I won't be back before 2pm. You can take a break, if you wish," she informed her young, Scottish, secretary, then offered Malfoy her hand. "Nice to see you, Malfoy."

He shook her hand without hesitation and she suddenly felt a slight tingling in her stomach.

"The pleasure is all mine," he smiled warmly. "Shall we?"

She nodded and followed him. She was surprised to see that they were headed for a small muggle café near the ministry. Reading her expression, he said honestly, "I'm really not the same person I was ten years ago."

She raised one eyebrow, but followed him inside without hesitation. After they had ordered, she looked at him expectantly. "So, why a lunch date, Malfoy?"

Malfoy forced his face into a composed mask, but a nervous flicker in his eyes betrayed him."I didn't want to take up your time by discussing private matters in your office. I think you already know. I want to apologise for… well for everything. Where should I start? The name-calling, the curses and spells, actually the whole six years of school, and of course… Malfoy Manor."

Automatically she tensed up and grabbed her arm, where you could still see the faint, silvery lines of her scars. It took her a great deal of effort to appear relaxed again and wave away the tense look on Draco's face with a smile.

"You don't have to apologise. I'd never hold that against you. There was nothing you could've done." Even though she still remembered that day with horror, her words were sincere. She didn't blame him, more even she apreciated that he had taken up the courage to apologise.

The blonde averted his eyes. "I disagree. I could've been a lot braver."

"Maybe. But the past is the past." Hermione shrugged, suddenly wishing he'd chosen a lighter subject.

"You forgive me that easily?" he asked surprised. "Weasley was a lot harder to crack."

She met his gaze squarely. "Because there's nothing to forgive. For me, it feels like ages ago." At once she felt her mood changing into something darker. "But if it makes you feel better, I accept your apology," she said, forcing a smile.

"Thank you," he declared honestly. A second later their food arrived and for half a minute they sat quietly, eating.

"So, do you like your new position?" Malfoy asked, breaking the silence.

"Um, yes, I do. It's much more of a challenge. Though, I didn't know that the Department of Magical Equipment Control was so…" Hermione trailed off, trying to find a word that didn't seem too mean-spirited.

"Demanding? Spoilt? That's just the Head, Lenny Park. He'll calm down once he's used to you," he suggested, a smirk dancing across his lips.

"How did you know?" She eyed him suspiciously.

"We had a heated discussion about cauldrons," he grinned and Hermione smiled back.

"I can picture it. Come to think of it, I wanted to ask you about paragraph 34.4 b –"

"Stop!" He held up his hand. "No work-talk during the break."

Hermione rolled her eyes good heartedly and went back to her meal. "Fine. So tell me about you. I didn't really follow the papers, sorry. You went out with Astoria?" she asked the first thing that came to her mind.

He winced slightly. "Yes, we were together for about five years, never got engaged, though. We broke up about two years ago."

"Any other girlfriends?" she asked and blushed at once. "Sorry, that was rude."

"No, I don't mind." He chuckled. "And no, no other girlfriends. What about you? Blaise told me you were married to Viktor Krum. Should I call you Krum now or do you prefer Granger?"

"Granger, please. And he's right. We were married for about four years," she answered, avoiding his eyes. Instantly she regretted that she had brought up his relationship, as it would undoubtedly lead to a scrutiny of her mere mentioning of Viktor caused coldness to creep into her veins , and she shuddered. "I don't want to talk about him, please."

"Nasty break-up?" he speculated.

"Something like that," she answered and tried to chase away the unwelcome thoughts with an abrupt gesture. In fact, she was quite desperate to change the topic. "Do you still live at the Manor?"

"No. I mean I will live there if my wife agrees. It's the family home. But for now my parents are content alone, I have my own flat. It has changed a lot, by the way." He looked cautiously at her, debating his next question. "Would you like to come for tea some day? My mother would be thrilled." Hermione's eyes snapped to him and he suddenly found the tablecloth to be very interesting.

"Really?" she asked, before she could stop herself. Somehow they'd managed to only tackle sensitive subjects.

"Yes. Now that we're working together, you'll probably receive an owl soon. And don't worry about my father, he behaves." Draco grinned. "Did Harry tell you what happened when he, Ginny, and Weasley came over for dinner?"

"What? Harry never told me that! When was that?" Hermione gaped at the blonde across from her. She could only imagine what could have happened in the Malfoy residence that night.

"Oh, we had a case together. Last year, I think. Mum couldn't wait to invite him."

Oh. Last year. It was possible that he had told her about it, but she'd simply forgotten. She'd had other things on her mind. "So, what happened?" Hermione enquired curiously.

The remaining minutes of their lunch break flew by, laughing and joking, and soon they had to go back to the office. She had to admit that it had been nice, nicer than she had expected. He was quite funny when he wanted to be, and she felt comfortable in his presence. At least as long as they avoided dangerous topics.

„Thank you for the lunch," she said as goodbye. "We should do that again sometime." Her eyes grew wide as she realised she had really just uttered these words out loud. "Ehm, just forget that last part."

"Why? I enjoyed talking to you. There's so much we don't know about each other and I think we'll be working together for quite some time – so why not get to know each other?"

She bit her lip. "Okay. So maybe we meet once a week? For lunch?"

"Perfect." He beamed.

* * *

Draco was right about one thing – a week later a Northern hawk-owl tapped against Hermione's window with an invitation from Narcissa Malfoy. The letter was very polite, but Hermione really didn't know what to do. Even if the Malfoys had changed, going back to the Manor…

She pushed the memory fragments aside and answered that she was unable to come this week, but in a fortnight was fine for her. A little insecure she added a postscript, asking if it was possible to bring a friend. She gave the owl a treat, bound the letter to its foot, and sent it on its way before she could change her mind. She already felt panic creep up on her, like slowly being dragged underwater. She could hardly breath.

Before the panic could overwhelm her completely, she flooed over to the Potter's, where she was welcomed by a three year old James.

"'Mione. 'Mione. 'Mione." The boy tugged on her work robes, trying to get her attention.

"Hi James, where's your mother?" she asked, hugging the little boy. It somehow relieved the tightness in her chest.

"Hermione?" Ginny called from upstairs, sounding a bit worried. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes, yes. I've just received an owl from Narcissa Malfoy and…" she started explaining to her friend, who ran down the stairs, "…and I wanted to ask if you'd join me?"

"Me?" Ginny asked surprised, leading her friend to the sitting room. "Tea?"

Hermione nodded thankfully and flopped onto the comfy sofa, trying very hard to look relaxed and not like on the verge of a panic attack (or rather in the middle of it).

"Kreacher," Ginny called. With a _plop_ the house elf appeared.

"What can Kreacher be helping you with, Mistress Potter, Mistress Granger?"

"Could you please bring us some tea, Kreacher, and then check if Albus is really asleep?"

"Of courses," he answered briefly and disappeared again.

"I don't know how I'd manage without Kreacher. James is as bad as his uncles' used to be, aren't you Jamie?" she asked smiling and cradled him on her lap. James laughed happily and started to tug on her hair. "See?"

Hermione forced a smile, but the tension just wouldn't leave her. The panic held her captive still. Before she could pick up the previous topic, Kreacher came back with the tea. Luckily, James started to play with some of the broken joke toys that George or Ron had left and didn't care about his mother or Hermione.

"So, when do you want to go to Malfoy Manor?" Ginny finally enquired.

Hermione sighed deeply. "Narcissa invited me for the weekend, but I need a bit more time. In a fortnight, if that's okay with you. Will you please go with me?" she pleaded.

"Of course, 'Mione. I've been there before. It looks quite nice now, no worries. Nothing'll remind you of that night," she answered softly, her light brown eyes full of concern. Hermione hadn't been able to fool her for even a second.

Ginny's answer took some oft he pressure away and she was able to breath more freely again. "Thank you. I don't know why it scares me so much. I'm stupid, aren't I?" Hermione nervously twisted her fingers in her robes.

"No, it's okay to be careful. I'm happy that you've opened up a bit." Ginny reached over and placed her hand over her friend's, smiling up at Hermione.

Hermione cocked one eyebrow. "Even if it's Malfoy?"

Ginny laughed and Hermione gave a small smile. "I wouldn't care, Hermione, you know that! As long as you stop shutting yourself away."

"That's not what I have been doing," Hermione contradicted, frowning.

"Really? And when was the last time you went out with someone other than me, Harry, or Ron?"

Hermione opened her mouth and closed it again.

"See?" Ginny teased.

"I visited Luna once," remembered Hermione.

"Well done." Ginny rolled her eyes. "This new job's good for you, new people are good for you."

"I am not a hermit, I have a social life! I just had so much to do… it was not easy, Ginevra, so don't judge me!"

Ginny's smile slipped from her face. "I don't. Really. I just want you to start living again. There's no need to be afraid."

Hermione sighed, knowing her friend was right."I know. Mrs. Hooper told me that, she's a great healer. But I don't think I'm ready for a relationship."

Ginny nodded, glad that Hermione was no longer angry. "I'm not talking about that, I'm talking about friends, okay?"

"Okay. I'll try with Malfoy, promise," Hermione whispered and sipped her tea. The hot beverage managed to calm her down even further, it kept the hysteria at bay, but it didn't banish it completely.

"Good. We'll have a splendid time there, I'm sure," Ginny smiled, but Hermione could still feel the worry radiating from her. "Do you want to stay for dinner? Harry'll be home any minute."

She didn't. She would feel like under surveillance, like a time bomb that could explode any second. Nonchalantly she evaded answering the question, "Where was he anyway? Isn't it Saturday?"

"Oh." Ginny uncomfortably shifted around on her chair. "He's playing Quidditch with people from the office."

Hermione tried not to flinch, but she was unable to prevent the darkness from crossing her face. "Oh. Is Malfoy playing?"

Ginny shrugged apologetically."I don't know. I miss playing, but …" Automatically she bit her lip.

"What?" Hermione tilted her head to the side. Ginny was never one to clam up when talking.

"Nothing." Ginny averted her eyes, not wanting to look at her friend.

"Ginny? What's wrong?"

Ginny shook her head and Hermione only stared harder. "Nothing's wrong. It's just … I think … no forget it. I tell you when I'm sure. So, do you want to stay?"

Hermione sighed, relenting, before changing the topic. "And you're sure it's okay with Harry, if I… befriend Malfoy? I'm not even sure I want to do that, anyway."

Ginny nodded vigorously. "He cares about you, Mione, and he'll be happy if you 'befriend' new people. I thought your lunch dates went well?"

"They do. But I still don't know a thing about him, about his past…" Hermione frowned, remembering the little details about his self he had let slip. They were not enough for her to form an opinion about him. Yes, she liked how he handled his work, how he put care in the wordings like she did, how passionate he was about certain aspects of potion law. But that only was his professional side she knew. And she needed more to decide if he would be a good friend. Even though she liked the way he sometimes smiled crookedly at her…

"He'll tell you when he's ready," Ginny said reassuringly. "These things take time."

"Ginny, I'm home!" Harry's loud voice interrupted their conversation.

Hermione jumped up. "I'd better go, I'll just say hi to Harry."

She hurried from the sitting room, feeling Ginny's concerned eyes following her.

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 **I know their relationship develops kind of slow, but I think it's more realistic that way. I wanted to write it the way it could really happen and not just bring them together. But don't worry, more drama ahead... next chapter: Malfoy Manor!**

 **Please, leave me your thoughts, guys ;)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Happy Halloween to everyone - here comes my treat for you: chapter 4!**  
 **Thanks to _TheDaringInferno_ for beta-ing.**

 **Anyway, I wanted to thank everyone who reviewed the story so far: Sissysbuddy, Malibu Baybreeze, chapou69, and Willowa! Virtual sweets for you! ;)**

 **[edited 21.03.]**

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4\. Malfoy Manor

Draco felt very self-conscious when he knocked on Hermione's door to pick her and Ginny up. It was only a few minutes before three, in fifteen minutes they were expected at the Manor. They had been meeting for lunch little over a month now and although their conversations were lively and captivating, nothing had developed so far. He wanted to give her time, because he knew that it wasn't easy to process a break-up, so he didn't flirt too openly. He wasn't even sure, if he wanted more than friendship, butterflies aside. With every conversation she became more interesting and more beautiful, but friendship was safe. He didn't want to lose her like he'd lost Astoria.

Suddenly Hermione opened the door and smiled at him. She looked gorgeous with her classical black dress.

"You look great," he stuttered very un-Malfoy-like and cursed himself inwardly. Fifteen years of training how to talk properly, how to charm a woman – and he said ‚ _you look great_ '.

Nevertheless she blushed. "Thanks. So this is fine? Not too much?" Nervously she smoothed out inexistent creases in her dress.

Draco shook his head, unable to take his eyes off of the woman before him. "It's perfect, Granger."

Hermione's blush darkened at the awe in Draco's voice. "Want to come in?" she mumbled and opened the door a bit further. Ginny was sitting in the living room, sipping tea, and smiling at both of them. He realised that she looked a bit tired with dark circles under her eyes.

"Hi Malfoy," she greeted him casually.

"Ginny," he nodded. "Ready?"

"Yes," Hermione announced. "But before we go…" Her eyes wandered to Draco. "I thought we could start calling each other by our first names. Outside the office, I mean. It's bit silly to call you Malfoy, now that you've invited me to your house, don't you think?"

He'd thought about that for quite some time now, but he hadn't known how to bring it up. "A brilliant idea," he responded quickly. "Shall we?"

She nodded determined. "Are we going to floo or apparate?"

"I'd rather floo," Ginny interjected and Draco nodded. "No problem. I'll go first and you follow, okay?"

Both nodded simultaneously. Hermione seemed to feel a bit panicked, and suddenly he wasn't sure anymore if this was a good idea. But the look on her face was so resolute that he didn't want to question her motivation. After a moment of hesitation, he grabbed the offered floo powder, threw it into the flames, stepped in, and said calmly, "Malfoy Manor."

The anxious face of Hermione disappeared and the manor's floo room came into view. He hurriedly jumped out of the fireplace, in case Ginny or Hermione were already following. Quickly he checked the wards, so they had no problems entering.

"Draco?" he heard his mother's voice asking. A second later she and his father entered the bright floo room. "So she really is coming?"

Draco nodded. "Of course." His mother was positively glowing with joy, while his father's expression varied between silent suffering and amusement. He glared at him warningly, but had no time to say anything as Hermione appeared in that exact moment. She stumbled a little, but Draco caught her at once and steadied her. She smiled at him thankfully and then turned nervously to his parents.

"Miss Granger, it's a pleasure to welcome you to Malfoy Manor," his mother greeted her, smiling brightly.

"Thank you for the invitation, Mrs. Malfoy," she answered politely and shook her hand.

A second later Ginny appeared as well and completed the group. Narcissa welcomed Ginny warmly and led the ladies through the sitting room to the garden, while his father stayed in the background. He still wasn't too happy about Granger's – Hermione's – visit, but it had nothing to do with her being a muggle-born. It was rather stubbornness to receive someone of the Golden Trio in his house.

Draco watched Hermione carefully as she looked around with big eyes, still clutching her left arm, but she held her chin up, a brave expression on her face.

"The house looks amazing," she complemented Narcissa after sitting down at a round garden table laden with tea and cakes. "It's so … bright and friendly."

Narcissa smiled proudly. "I started redecorating directly after the war. I couldn't stand to enter any of the rooms V-Voldemort had been in." Her gaze flickered to Draco.

"That's true. She banned the colour black from the house. Only precious heirlooms could stay," he helped out. "She made me help her choose wallpapers and carpets. It was a nightmare."

She chuckled. "You were at least a bit helpful, Lucius on the other hand…" Catching her husband's gaze, she silenced herself.

"You should give Hermione a tour later, Malfoy," Ginny suggested quickly.

"That is a brilliant idea!" his mother beamed.

Unsure, his gaze wandered to Hermione. "Would you like a tour?"

"Absolutely." She winked. "Through the gardens as well, please. Those lilies look amazing."

"Do you like gardening?" Narcissa asked inquisitively, putting a piece of cake on Hermione's plate.

"Thank you," she smiled. "I like flowers, but my father unfortunately didn't pass on his green thumb."

"Would you like some coffee or tea, Miss Granger?" Lucius asked politely, feeling Draco's gaze on him.

"Coffee, please."

"Mrs. Potter?"

"Oh, no coffee." Ginny suddenly blushed a little. "Tea is just fine."

The conversation flowed naturally for a while. They talked a bit about work and Hermione's old job and changed then to the Quidditch world cup last year. Hermione tensed up at once, and he remembered that she'd never been a fan of Quidditch; however, her expression wasn't exactly boredom. It was darker, more hurt than anything else. Then he recollected that she probably associated everything Quidditch-related with her ex-husband.

Before he could change the subject, his father interjected. "Talking about the World Cup, your husband must have been devastated when he lost the Snitch to Rawya Zaghloul in 2002. In the interviews he never mentioned anything about it."

Hermione went white as a sheet and he inwardly cursed his father for the remark. "Oh, yes. He was devastated. That's the reason, he retired," she answered briefly, avoiding everyone's eyes.

Luckily, his mother noticed it as well and pointed out, "Have you seen the peanut butter cookies, Mrs. Potter? I remembered that you were crazy for them the last time you visited."

"Oh." Ginny pulled a face as if Narcissa had offered her old, smelly fish. "That is so thoughtful of you, Mrs. Malfoy, but…." She swallowed nervously. "I'm full."

Narcissa frowned for a second, and then a bright smile highlighted her features. "How far along are you?"

"What?" Draco and Hermione gasped at the same time, catching onto the meaning at once.

Ginny blushed even harder and shifted uncomfortably. "How did you know?"

"One moment!" Hermione stuttered. "You're pregnant? Does Harry know?"

Ginny looked at her apologetically. "I thought about telling you last time, but it was very early, so I wasn't quite sure. And no, I haven't told him yet, as I wasn't sure how he'd react. And I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't tell him."

"Of course not," Hermione answered, looking down at her lap.

Draco realised that she was _crestfallen_ and wondered why. She genuinely seemed to try to look happy for her friend, so it had nothing to do with Ginny personally. Maybe … maybe it something to do with herself? He had noticed that she always avoided mentioning her ex; also, she directed the conversation to something work related, in case something he asked merely touch the subject of relationships.

"How did you know?" Ginny repeated.

"Simple. No coffee, changes in appetite, you look so tired and you came by floo," Narcissa enumerated, looking smug.

"You are a genius," marvelled Draco.

"You are," Ginny confirmed. "Not even Harry has guessed it yet and he sees me every day."

"Men," Narcissa grinned conspiratorially and winked at Ginny.

"Hey!" Draco protested half-heartedly.

His mother ignored him and continued to speak to the red head, "And I'm sure he'll be happy to know. You should tell him."

Ginny blinked. "But… I don't know. We'd actually decided to have no more children after Albus. What if he's mad?"

"No way, Ginny!" Hermione exclaimed. "Right, Mrs. Malfoy?"

Draco watched Hermione, while they continued talking about the baby. The crestfallen look had disappeared and was replaced by a feigned smile, behind which she tried to hide an utter sadness.

"How about a tour now?" he asked quickly. "Meanwhile my mother and Ginny can discuss baby names." He rolled his eyes and winked.

Relief flickered across her features. "If that's okay with you, Ginny?"

The red-haired witch nodded hesitantly. "Of course, 'Mione. Enjoy the tour."

Immediately Hermione jumped up and followed Draco into the house. "Thank you," she muttered quietly.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he offered, hoping she would open up a bit. Although he really wanted to know more about her, he didn't want to push her. The friendship they had established still felt very fragile, as if it would break by a wrong move.

Quickly she shook her head. "No. Now where do we start?"

* * *

 **A/N: I hope you liked it, guys. Please leave a review... :***

 **I also have a short Halloween Special up my sleeve, which I'll post tomorrow (check it out!). Unfortunately it's unbetaed and probably full of horrendous grammatical mistakes (if you haven't noticed, I'm not a native). So if someone wants to beta it, feel free to message me! Thaaaanks :)**  
 **xxx**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I proudly present: Chapter 5 :) Thank you to _TheDaringInferno_ for betaing. I hope you'll enjoy it! Please, leave me your thoughts ... ;)**

 **This might be the last chapter for 2 weeks, as I'm going to travel to New York and won't be able to update until after that. In the meantime check out my 2 Dramione One Shots!**

 **[Edited 27.03.]**

* * *

Chapter 5: Demons of the past

Draco would be a great guide, Hermione thought. His tour was interesting, funny, and somehow mysterious. Every room had its own history, and he shared some of his memories with her. He made her laugh, but he couldn't completely banish her dark mood.

Finally they reached the library. It was enormous, a sea of books stretching as far as the eye could see.

"I knew you'd love this room," he chuckled when he saw her face.

"Can I have a look around?" she asked and inspected the shelf next to her.

"Feel free to take out any book you like."

She didn't need to be told twice and jumped at the opportunity. "Oh, wow, _1001 Arabian potions_. Do you know how rare this is?" He grinned but said nothing. "And here… _Poison or Potion_ by Zygmunt Budge. Is that where your love for potions comes from?"

He shrugged. "I think it was just something I was good at. I had an _Outstanding_ in my Eighth Year."

She nodded absently, having already set her sight on the next shelf. "Fairy Tales. Wow. Here, you even have the same version of _Tales of Beedle the Bard_."

"The same version as who?" he enquired.

"Me, actually. It used to be Dumbledore's but he passed it on to me." She swallowed. "Someday I might tell you about it." Quickly she decided to change the topic before he could ask any further. "Oh, you have _Die Märchen der Gebrüder Grimm_! Is it in German?"

Thankfully, he let it pass. "Of course. It is the original, more bloodthirsty version. Do you speak German?" He watched her carefully, noting her sudden stiffness.

In passing she let her index finger trail along the spine of the antique book of fairytales. "A bit. We lived in Germany for half a year, when the national team trained with the Heidelberg Harriers. You?" she said, deliberately avoiding Viktor's name.

"Actually, I do. We have some friends there, and we used to visit them very often when I was younger," he answered lightly, wondering what she was thinking about.

A sudden grin highlighted her features, chasing away the darkness that had been about to overwhelm her. "That is fantastic. Now I have someone to practise with. It'll be like a secret language between us."

Her enthusiasm made him laugh. "I'd love that. Do you want to read it?"

"But … it shouldn't be moved. It is so old." She longingly looked at the book, and he could literally feel her desire to read it, even if she had said otherwise.

He smiled and carefully slid the book off the shelf. "There are enough protective spells on it, Gr- Hermione. Take it with you. I know you'll handle it with care."

His smile made her all warm inside. It felt so good to stroll with him through the library and talk about books. Faster than she thought possible half an hour was over and they really had to go back to Ginny. "Thank you so much for the tour and the book," she said on their way back.

Suddenly Draco stopped in front of a door. "Wait. Let's take the other way."

At once she realised what was behind it. _The_ room. The room she'd been tortured in. "No!" she contradicted and quickly opened the door before he could stop her.

It looked very different with a warm mahogany floor and blue wallpaper, but the shape and the ceiling were just the same. She closed her eyes for a second, warding off the darkness attacking her, and held her left arm tight. She'd been through worse, no need to create a fuss, she told herself; however, that was easier said than done.

"Hermione?" Draco asked softly, touching her shoulder.

Instantly she spun around, her wand in the hand. "Don't touch me," she snapped.

"Sorry," he whispered, his face ashen.

"No, no, _I'm_ sorry," she apologised immediately. "I overreacted." Carefully she put her wand back in its holster and tried to smile. "Bellatrix is dead and gone. She will never hurt me again."

His grey eyes were so full of sympathy that she felt even worse than before. "How do you stand this room? Any of the rooms? It must've been horrible for you too."

"It was," he said flatly. "But it is still my home. There're happy memories here as well. I tried to focus on those and fight the bad ones. But, to be honest, I was happy to escape this house for a whole year." His eyes lingered on a certain spot on the floor before they returned to her. "Mother tried her best to change everything."

"She did a great job," Hermione praised with a shaky voice. "It was good for me to return here. I need to fight the demons of the past."

He nodded silently, not knowing what to say.

"At least the chandelier is gone," she sighed finally and tried to smile. "Come on. Ginny's waiting." She knew she'd have nightmares tonight, but Draco didn't need to know that. He behaved so gently, so caring … she couldn't see any traces of his younger self, even here in this room.

"I'm sorry," he apologised again, and she knew that it was not for letting Ginny wait.

"If you say that one more time, I'll hex you," she tried to joke. "I've already told you: forgiven and forgotten."

"Let's just hope mother hasn't convinced Ginny to call her kid _Scorpius_ by now. She's been trying to influence me for years. You know she'd absolutely love a grandchild," he changed the subject.

"I can imagine," Hermione laughed. "My parents are the same."

She could see the question in his eyes, but before he could utter another word, she rushed out.

Ginny and Mrs. Malfoy were still deep in their conversation while Mr. Malfoy had made himself scarce.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your conversation, mother, but I think they'd better go before Harry thinks we've kidnapped his wife," Draco interrupted them unceremoniously.

"Draco!" Mrs. Malfoy exclaimed, scandalised.

"It was a joke, mother," Draco laughed, winking at her.

"Thank you for the wonderful tea, Mrs. Malfoy," Hermione said quickly. "I'm sorry I couldn't see the amazing gardens."

She smiled warmly. "Don't worry. My house is always open for Draco's friends. Just come by next week."

"Thank you for the invitation." Hermione smiled back and shook her hand.

"I'll accompany you to the floo," Draco offered politely, ever the perfect gentleman. "Are you sure, you're okay?" he added in a whisper, placing himself between her and the door. His steel grey eyes scrutinised her, and she was sure he would see through her and discover all her dark secrets in a flash. But of course he didn't.

"Draco, you don't need to worry about me," she reassured him quickly while Ginny said her goodbyes, but the slight trembling in her voice betrayed her. However, she didn't want him to think that she was weak or pathetic, so she straightened her back and pushed past him into the reception room without looking back.

Impatiently she waited until Ginny joined her, desperately avoiding Draco's gaze. "See you on Monday, Draco," she finally mumbled, fleeing into the fireplace.

A split second later the Manor and Draco disappeared, and she found herself at home. Ginny appeared only a moment behind her. "Are you sure, you're okay?" her friend asked in a concerned voice. It unnerved Hermione.

"Quite," she answered curtly, marching into the kitchen to escape Ginny's worry.

It didn't work. Her friend followed her close. "You could stay at Grimmauld Place if you want," she offered innocently.

"No," Hermione responded stubbornly. For one thing, she didn't want to impose on them, and for another, she didn't want to appear weak. She wanted to show her friends that she could handle herself (even if a small part of herself told her that she couldn't).

Ginny, however, did not give up that easily. "Okay, then I'll stay with you," she smiled at her friend.

"I can't let a pregnant woman sleep on the couch. Harry'd kill me." Hermione rolled her eyes and absent-mindedly put the kettle on.

"Nonsense. I don't think you should be alone tonight," the red headed witch insisted.

"Will you leave if I tell you I'll go to my parent's home?" Hermione carefully watched her friend, hoping Ginny would finally let her be.

"Only if you promise!" Ginny demanded, narrowing her eyes.

"I promise, okay? And you promise to tell Harry tonight!" Hermione negotiated, a triumphant smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Ginny winced. "But …"

"Ginny, stop that. He'll be overjoyed, you know he will," she successfully changed the topic, smiling inwardly.

Luckily Ginny went for it. "Maybe … he always wanted a daughter," she whispered.

Hermione quickly gave her hand a comforting squeeze. "See. So go home, I can take care of myself." Ginny nodded unconvinced, but thank Merlin took the floo anyway.

Now she was finally alone.

Mechanically Hermione made herself a cup of tea and sat down on her couch with Crookshanks on her lap, thoughts rushing through her mind. She'd been so sure that she was over Bellatrix, but apparently she wasn't. The memory lingered in the back of her mind like a monster waiting to attack.

In the summer after the war all of them had suffered terrible and horrifying nightmares, but Ron had been there to comfort her, to keep her safe. Now she was utterly alone. Again. In Hogwarts Madam Pomfrey had made a special potion for her if the nightmares were too bad, but now she had no access to it. For a split second she thought about taking Dreamless Sleep Potion, but dismissed the thought again. After her break-up with Viktor, she'd self-medicated her nightmares with it and consequently had become heavily addicted.

No, she'd just need to get through the next week. Suddenly her gaze fell on the calendar, and she realised that July was nearing. The anniversary of her divorce hung over her like Damocles' sword.

She sighed and put her cup down. Whatever she had told Ginny, she didn't have the intention to return to her parent's home. But she could get a head start on her paperwork for next week, now that she wasn't sleep deprived yet.

Half an hour later – she had only just managed to read through the first draft – an owl knocked on the window. Hesitantly she opened it and let the tawny owl in. After she had removed the letter from its leg, the owl turned around and flew swiftly to her curtain rod, waiting for her answer.

It was not Harry's or belonging to any of the Weasleys. That only left Draco.

She swallowed hard and carefully broke the seal with her fingertips.

Dear Hermione,

I sincerely hope that you are okay. I have enclosed some Dreamless Sleep Potion, in case you need it. Please tell me if there is anything I can do for you. I feel so responsible for everything that happened eight years ago, that happened today.

If you will allow it, I could come by tomorrow. We can have some breakfast together.

Please, take care of yourself.

Draco M.

She stared at the little phial that had fallen out of the letter. With a tap of her wand it transformed back into its original size, the purple liquid inside sloshed temptingly. Quickly she put it back on the table and took her quill out in order to answer him.

Draco,

Thank you for your letter, but you needn't worry, I am perfectly fine. Therefore, there is no need for you to step by. Please, do not blame yourself for anything that has happened today. I had a good time.

See you at work.

Hermione G.

Hurriedly she folded the parchment, attached it to the owl's leg, and watched the tawny owl float out of the window. Now he certainly thought she was a pathetic, feeble, and oversensitive woman.

Why did she care anyway?

Angrily she stomped back to her papers, but Draco simply wouldn't leave her mind. When another owl tapped on the window, she hoped for a second that it'd be Draco's, but it was Harry's snowy owl _Nival_. She skimmed through the note, but didn't really feel like answering right now. She knew she should congratulate him (Ginny'd finally managed to announce the news) and tell him that she was all right, but she was tired of lying.

She was not all right at all.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hello, my dear readers, I'm back in Germany (New York was amazing btw)! Soooo ... here's my new chapter! I hope the wait wasn't too long. Please r &r**

 **[edited 11.04.]**

* * *

Chapter 6: Nightmares

Although Hermione's letter actively discouraged him from visiting her, Draco couldn't help himself. He simply needed to check on her. Not because he felt guilty – although he definitely did – but because he sincerely cared for her. He hadn't found much sleep this night himself, having dreamt of Hermione's screams and Bellatrix's maniacal laughter. He expected she would have experienced exactly the same if she hadn't taken the Dreamless Sleep Potion.

So he apparated over to her flat and knocked tentatively. After a few seconds he heard shuffling and Hermione opened the door. "Harry, I told you I'm fine – oh." She stared at him. "You're not Harry."

It was very clear from her appearance that she hadn't slept a single hour in the night before, the dark circles under her eyes contrasting with her ashen face. She was wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt, no makeup and her bushy hair was especially wild.

He opened his mouth to say something, but she interrupted him harshly, "Malfoy, I told you not to come. I don't need your sympathy or your apologies or anything else from you."

Oh, it was Malfoy again. This was definitely a bad sign. "I'm not here for that. I just … I just wanted to check on you like a decent friend would," he defended himself.

"We are colleagues, not friends," she retorted, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "You can't just waltz into my life like that. I don't know a single thing about you."

"Then ask me, okay? Maybe I deserve your mistrust, but you have to see that I was really trying, Hermione," he countered, ignoring the stabbing pain in his heart. She didn't consider him a friend. "Why didn't you take the potion?"

She searched his gaze, as if to determine any ulterior motives. "Because I can't," she finally admitted with a shaking voice. "I'm too tired to fight with you. Just go, okay?"

"No," he disagreed firmly. "I can't leave you like this."

"But-"

Draco shook his head, not letting himself be deterred. "Harry wouldn't leave." He pushed her slightly back and squeezed through the door.

He had seen her living room before, but now it wasn't as orderly and clean as before, now it actually looked like someone lived here. A teapot and cup were standing on the table, forgotten, a blanket lay crumbled on the couch and _Die Märchen der Gebrüder Grimm_ was carefully put on a side table. The sun was streaming through the windows and illuminated her whole apartment.

"Malfoy!" she exclaimed angrily, wand in hand. "What do you want? What the hell are you doing?"

At once he raised his hands, palms open. "Nothing. No wand – see?" It hurt him that she seemed to think he'd attack her. He would never, _never_ intentionally hurt her! How could she not see that?

Very slowly she lowered her arm and staggered a little, but steadied herself immediately. "Just leave. I don't need you to take care of me. I'm a grown woman."

"Why won't you accept my help? I mean well, Hermione," he whispered, sounding defeated.

Hermione barked out a laugh that left Draco on edge. "I can fight my own battles, understood?" she snapped.

"Yes. But I only want to talk, okay? Just talk. You can ask me anything you want." Draco kept his face open, hoping to pacify the witch in front of him.

She scrutinised him and finally gave in. "I don't care. Stay or leave ... whatever!" Exhausted she fell back on her chair.

He watched her for a second. She still appeared irritated, edgy, and ready to leap at his throat. "Tea?" he offered quietly.

At once she exploded again. "This is my house. I should be the one- "

He interrupted her unceremoniously. "Sit. You wouldn't behave like this if I were Ginny."

Suddenly she started to chuckle hysterically. "But you are not, Malfoy. And I really don't think you want to be. Because then you'd carry a baby around in your belly right now, which would give you headaches and morning sickness and swollen ankles."

"Ginny didn't seem to mind," he said, carefully watching her reaction. He seemed to have somehow cheered her up. She wasn't aggressive anymore, rather slap-happy. Women were an enigma, _really_.

"True. She didn't. But you have to admit, that it's a funny thought," she grinned.

Rolling his eyes, he heated the kettle with a tab of his wand. "Back to the topic at hand. Why didn't you take the potion?"

"I was honest before. I can't. It'll make me addicted," she answered without thinking.

He wasn't stupid, it was clear she spoke from experience. He frowned. "You were addicted during your final year at Hogwarts?"

"No." She looked away, obviously regretting her slip. "After my divorce."

"You had nightmares about Viktor Krum?" Draco tilted his head to the side, looking at the woman before him in a new light.

She flinched violently. "Something like that."

"Wow. He must've been a nightmare, literally." That explained a lot. As an afterthought, he added, "Is that why you avoid his name?"

She stared blankly at him. "How did you …?"

"I'm attentive."

Hermione narrowed her eyes for a split second and then let out a tired sigh. "I've noticed."

Draco wondered how he could approach the next topic without angering Hermione. "So you don't harbour … feelings for him?" This had been nagging at him for a while. He had suspected she avoided his name, because she still cared for him and because it hurt to think about a lost love.

Hermione looked at him in shock. "Feelings? Like love? No!" She resolutely shook her head. "Why do you care?"

That was a very good question. "Milk?" he stalled and handed her a cup. She nodded, still staring at him. "You should really sleep. You look as if you'll collapse any moment now."

"I'm not weak. I can manage!" she hissed.

He sighed silently. Everything he said seemed to be an attack to her. "That was not what I was implying. How are you going to deal with work tomorrow, if you don't sleep?"

Hermione paled slightly, sipping at her tea. "I won't. I called in sick for tomorrow. I'll send in my paperwork through owl-post," she answered, avoiding his eyes.

"Because of Bellatrix?" he asked astounded.

She shrugged. "Forget it, Draco." At least she was using his first name again. But she never opened up or let him in, even for a second. The best course of action was probably to open up himself, at least that was the only thing that came to his mind. He really had no idea how to deal with her mood swings. Had she been like this in Hogwarts?

"She gives me nightmares too, you know…" he breathed. "She was so eager to offer me up to V-Voldemort. She and my father were so proud when I received the Dark Mark." Unconsciously his fingers traced the shadow on his left arm. "But when I failed to kill Dumbledore… she wanted to _Crucio_ me so badly, but V-Voldemort decided that my father had to pay for my failure, so I'd keep in mind what consequences …" He stopped and swallowed. "Well, she was a truly horrible aunt. Mother protected me during Christmas break but during the Easter holidays, when we captured you … and I failed again, nothing could protect me anymore." He left the sentence open, but Hermione would understand.

"I didn't know," she whispered.

"There's a lot you don't know about me. I know I was a spoiled brat, a bully, and a coward, but I've changed. If I could alter events in the past, I would, but you destroyed all the time-turners in the Department of Mysteries," he smiled mirthlessly. "The war changed me, the last year at Hogwarts changed me even more." He focused his gaze on her. "And either you accept that and accept my friendship or you don't."

She seemed to ponder on his words for a second, tracing the edge of her tea cup with her finger tips. "I still don't get why you'd like to be friends with me. Even if you've changed your views on Muggle-borns … I'm still the bossy know-it-all."

He chuckled. "You have no idea, do you? When we met at your office that day, I liked you at once." He didn't tell her that it was possibly more than just 'liking', strictly speaking. "I just did. I don't know why."

She stared at him unbelievingly.

"Why did you decide to keep up the lunch dates, if you didn't like me back?" he asked innocently.

"Well … I found you charming and easy to talk to … and Ginny told me I needed more friends," she defended herself self-consciously, biting her lip.

"So you _do_ like me." Draco suppressed a triumphant smile.

Hermione snorted, sipping her tea. "Mhm. I probably do," she murmured hesitantly.

Draco smiled softly, glad that he could finally get her to admit it. "Now that we've established that, you should really take a nap. I can get you a regular Sleeping Draught. It'll knock you out at once."

Hermione shook her head, setting down her empty teacup. "No. I'll still have nightmares."

Draco grimaced. He knew from experience how difficult it could be to sleep with nightmares. "And if I stay?"

Hermione looked at him in surprise once more, frowning. "Stay?"

"Yes, here in the living room. You have enough books to keep me entertained. I can wake you if the nightmares get too bad." He wanted nothing more than to be there for her, to show her that she could trust him.

Hermione looked at him suspiciously. "Don't you have something better to do with your day?"

He bit his lip. "Maybe. But friends are important. So, do you agree?"

She yawned. "You're right. I can't put this off forever. But I have to warn you … normally Ginny or Harry stayed with me, so they know." She looked at him hesitantly. "It gets really bad sometimes. Really, really bad. Be careful and use a shield charm."

"What?"He hadn't thought it would be that bad. Just how much had she been hurt?

"With Harry I use a codeword, so I know everything's all right." She rubbed her arms protectively. "It's something muggle, so we don't use it accidentally."

He lifted one eyebrow. "Okay. Tell me the word."

"Tyger, tyger," she recited.

Confusion spread over Draco's face. "I don't get it."

"It's a poem," she sighed. "Just say it."

"Will do." Draco nodded, and Hermione suddenly looked afraid. He knew she didn't often let people see her weak.

"Maybe this is a bad idea," she promptly announced, rethinking his proposal.

Draco stepped closer to the woman. "Listen. I know that you don't want to appear vulnerable, but it is okay. I won't use it against you. Promise." She nodded slightly. "I have a last question. Why did you decide to come to the Manor? If you knew what it would do to you, why would you...?" Draco trailed off and Hermione took a moment to think.

"I couldn't be sure, what would happen. Furthermore, as I've told you before, I need to confront the demons of my past or I'll never be free."

"You're probably right," Draco agreed, seeing the logic in that.

She finally smiled. "I normally am." Then she stood up. "Good night, Draco."

"Good night, Hermione."

* * *

She had been right. Her nightmares were absolutely horrible. Only a few hours had passed until he heard her screaming and thrashing. At once he stormed into her room. The temperature had sunken dramatically, his breath created white clouds in front of his mouth. Had she done that? He grabbed his wand, just to be sure and approached her.

"No!" she screamed again, body flailing on her bed. "Please, no!"

"Hermione! Wake up!" He tried to grab her and instead got a punch to the side of his face.

"Please, Viktor," she cried and Draco froze. She actually had nightmares of her ex-husband. What did that bastard do to her?

He took her wrists in his hand, to avoid her hitting him again, but the second their skin made contact an electrical jolt flashed through him. It wasn't the passionately tingling between lovers but a real shock. He flinched, but didn't let go.

"Hermione you have to wake up!" he demanded and shook her.

She woke with a start and automatically tried to free her hands. "Don't touch me!" she screamed, frantically searching for her wand.

"Tyger, tyger." Draco hoped the codeword would calm her down.

She froze. "What did you just say?"

"Tyger, tyger. It was just a nightmare, Hermione," he whispered reassuringly. She finally stopped trying to escape his grip and looked at the blonde.

"Draco?" Her voice shook violently.

"It's me." She stared at him, trying hard to calm down, but her hands kept trembling and fierce sobs broke out of her chest. "Shhh." Hesitantly, he put his arms around her and pulled her into his body.

"Don't," she whispered, but didn't resist. He noticed her goose bumps and tried to adjust the temperature in the room. Her accidental magic was impressive. Slowly she calmed down, but her face was still pale and tired. She hadn't slept anywhere near enough.

"Go back to sleep," he breathed, lying her back down on the bed.

Although she was agitated by her nightmare, sleep still intended to claim her. She fought to keep her eyes open, but this fight she had to lose. After a minute she was sound asleep, but her hand was still tightly curled around his. When he tried to move, she groaned and dug her nails into his palm.

"Okay, okay, I'll stay." He pulled out his wand with the other hand and conjured a comfy armchair. With another wand movement and a silent _Accio_ the blanket and the book he had been reading were in his hands. Finally, he sat down and tried to make himself comfortable. He had intended to continue the book, but now he contented himself with watching Hermione sleep.

* * *

 **A/N: The quote is from William Blake's _The Tyger_. It is also used in the series _The Mentalist_.**

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter. ;)**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: [Edited 24.04: Thank you to _Cecelia Everhart_ , who betaed this chapter.  
I'll now take all the unbetaed chapters down and slowly upload the betaed ones. I'm very busy, so it might come down to only 2 chapters a month. Sorry, guys]  
**

* * *

7\. One step forward, two steps back

Hermione woke painfully slowly, her dream tried to pull her down again, but finally she was awake. Her room was dark, but the sound of quiet breathing told her that someone else was present. Automatically, she tightened her fingers around her wand and muttered, "Lumos."

In the dim light of her wand, she recognised Draco sleeping in an armchair.

She could only partially recall what had happened last night or rather morning. He'd come to check on her and then … stayed.

Oh, dammit. Why had she done that? Why had she let him stay? How did he manage to break down all her inner walls and make her do such things?

For a second she contemplated waking him, but what should she say? She glanced at the clock. It was only four in the morning. Silently, she got up and levitated the sleeping Draco on her bed – it was much more comfortable than the armchair, after all.

Noiselessly she left her room, leaving him on her bed.

Sighing, she opened the window in the living room and let the cool night air in. What would he think of her in the morning? Would he consider her crazy, or pathetic, or unstable? Would he act himself differently towards her, now that he knew? She couldn't stand it if he treated her like scum again.

She couldn't pretend anymore, like she didn't care what he thought, she couldn't pretend that she remained indifferent towards him. No, she _did_ care. That was the problem.

There was such a strange feeling inside her. It wasn't like the nervous butterflies she had with Ron or her illusions with Viktor; it was something else entirely. If he was near, she felt safe.

Of course she felt safe with Harry or Ron as well – she trusted them with her life – but it was a different kind of safe. He felt like home, family, safety – everything she wanted so badly, but that was always out of her reach.

She didn't want to feel this way towards Draco. He was just supposed to be a friend, nothing else. She didn't want to get hurt, like she had been the last time. She had vowed to never fall in love again.

Without a moment's hesitation, she came to a decision: She'd keep her distance from now on and wouldn't allow her feelings to get into the way.

Content, she started to work on some papers she needed to hand in today.

* * *

About three hours later, a muffled sound in her room told her that Draco was awake. She had finished a third of her papers and was just about to send them over to the ministry. It had helped her to calm down, to build up her inner walls again, and to take her mind off of the past.

Abruptly, Draco opened the door and stared at her. His hair was slightly ruffled and his clothes crumpled, but somehow he still managed to look handsome. She couldn't really categorise his gaze – was he angry, or confused, or both?

"Morning," she mumbled, averting her eyes. "I've made tea. Do you want some?"

"No," he answered taciturnly. "I have to go to my place to change before I go to work."

"Mhm." So he _was_ angry. Damn.

At once his voice turned soft. "Hermione, look at me."

Very carefully, she lifted her gaze until she met his silver eyes, which for some reason reminded her of the cloudy sky during a storm. That couldn't be a good sign.

When she didn't speak, he continued. "Nightmares are nothing to be ashamed of."

"Mhm." This was really not what she had expected.

"Are you okay? I mean … how do you feel? Will you be okay alone for today?" Was that concern in his voice?

"I'm fine. I don't need you to take care of me," she repeated. "If you don't hurry, you're gonna be late."

He glanced at his watch and winced. "Doesn't matter. Hermione …" He sighed. "See you tomorrow." A heartbeat later, he disappeared in a whirl of green fire.

Relieved, she began writing a detailed letter to Harry, congratulating him and apologising for the late reply.

Of course, she would manage today. She wasn't a five year old, after all.

* * *

The next day Draco went to Hermione's office to pick her up for their lunch date, but her secretary, Miss Pond, stopped him before he could even touch the doorknob.

"Mr. Malfoy, didn't you receive my memo? Ms. Granger is unavailable today," she chirped.

"I did. I just wanted to check on her. She hasn't answered my letters."

"I assure you, she is perfectly fine." She made a vague gesture with her hand, indicating he should leave.

He clenched his teeth. Why was she avoiding him? He had thought they were friends now. "Is she in there?" he growled.

Amelia winced. "No. She hasn't come to work."

What? That meant she wasn't fine at all. Instantly, he turned on his heels and stormed to the auror's department. Ignoring all attempts of Potter's secretary to stop him, he marched into his office.

"Malfoy, has something happened?" Potter asked and jumped up, reading the expression on his face correctly.

"Not to me. Hermione didn't come to work today."

"Oh." This apparently wasn't news to Potter.

"Is she all right? Have you seen her?" Draco asked vehemently.

"Since when do you care?" he suspiciously questioned in return.

"Since I dragged her into Malfoy Manor and made her relive …" His voice broke.

"It's not your fault," Potter answered automatically, sitting down again. "She simply felt a bit under the weather. That's why she didn't come in."

"It has nothing to do with her nightmares?"

The suspicion in his gaze increased and Draco realised that he sounded too well informed for a colleague.

"I checked on her, okay? Yesterday. I was just … worried," he tried to explain, but the suspicion in Potter face didn't fade. " _What_?!"

"Nothing. Ginny's with her. No need to worry," he answered curtly.

"Okay. But if there's anything I can do …" He bit his lip. "Forget it, Potter. Good day." Arg, what was he doing? He'd sounded like an utter moron. Where was his Malfoy demeanour, his superiority? He thought about writing her another letter, but as she hadn't answered any of the previous ones, why would this one be any different? Grumbling and unhappy, he returned to his desk, but Hermione just wouldn't leave his mind.

* * *

A few minutes after four, Draco dashed out of the ministry, apparating directly to Hermione's apartment. Taking a deep breath, he knocked. After a couple of seconds, Ginny opened the door.

"Malfoy," she greeted.

"Ginny, I –"

Quickly, she interrupted him. "She doesn't want to see you, Malfoy. Go away!"

"What?" He stared at her shocked. "Why?"

Ginny's expression turned softer. "It's nothing personal, okay?"

He shook his head, not knowing if he should be rather angry or hurt. "No. I still don't understand."

She sighed deeply. "Malfoy, I … I don't know how to explain. Please, just go. It's nice of you to care, but … just go."

He clenched his teeth stubbornly. "I want to see her." He needed to know that she was okay. He needed to see it with his own eyes.

"No!" Ginny exclaimed fiercely. "She'll be back at the office before you notice." With that she slammed the door shut.

* * *

The week went by and Hermione didn't return; however, all her papers were delivered on time. Draco had given up writing her because she never answered. He tried it at her apartment again, but she didn't open the door. Nevertheless, she had sent him the book back, without a note. Slowly, his mood changed from worried to angry. She couldn't just ignore him like that; he had been nothing but kind. He hadn't deserved this treatment. So when she was back in the ministry on Monday, he walked into her office, ignoring her secretary.

She sat at her desk as usual. If he didn't know her, he probably wouldn't have noticed the slight sloppiness of her clothing, the paleness of her face, or the trembling of her fingers.

"Oh, Malfoy." She jumped up.

He wouldn't get distracted by the sympathy she evoked in him. He had every right to be angry. "We need to talk," he announced curtly.

"If it is about the new ingredient's law –"

He interrupted her unceremoniously. "No, it's not about a stupid law. Why have you been ignoring me?"

Her lips trembled. "I didn't feel well."

"So you couldn't answer my owls," he snapped angrily. He would not give in! Not even, if she looked at him like that with her doe eyes.

"Sorry." She sat back down and stared at the paper in front of her. She did it again, ignoring him.

She made him furious, but, at the same time, her _brokenness_ calmed him. "What did I do wrong?" he asked in a controlled voice.

She frowned, still not looking up. As if he wasn't worth her attention. "Nothing."

"Then explain why you won't talk to me," he demanded as quietly as he could.

She swallowed, finally meeting his gaze. "It has nothing to do with you."

"Ginny said the same."

A look of surprise crossed her face, but she hid it quickly. "Good. I think it is better, if we'd stop this. This thing we have."

"What?" he gasped, his heart skipping a beat. Had he ruined it with his anger?

"I'm not a good friend, as you can see. We should stop the lunch dates. Please, don't come to my office if it is not work related," she said impassively, her eyes blank.

"No!" he growled. "You can't do this."

She stared at him defiantly. "Don't tell me what I can and what I can't do. Now, leave or I call security."

Reluctantly, he left her office, feeling furious but incredibly sad at the same time. She couldn't do this; she couldn't just throw that at him and expect him to accept it.

They really had to talk, if not at her office, then at her place. This time he wouldn't take no for an answer.

* * *

 **Tadaaaa! I hope you are up for a little confrontation between them in the next chapter.**

 **So, please leave a review! ;)**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: [edit 02.05.: Thank you to _Cecelia Everhart_ for betaing! Any** **mistakes or inconsistencies are totally my fault!]**

 **So... here comes the argument. I'm not totally happy with it, but I felt it needed to be there. I hope you'll enjoy it, nevertheless!  
And please leave a review. Pretty, pretty please ... :***

* * *

8\. Handle with care

Hermione was lounging in her living room and watching an American TV-Show with Vampires when a noise in her fireplace told her that someone was approaching. As her wards only allowed friends in, she expected it to be Ginny and the kids, who had spent some evenings at her place last week. Without turning around, she said, "Hi Ginny, do you want to watch some TV with me?"

"Gladly," a familiar voice said; however, not Ginny's. "But I'm not Ginny."

She spun around, wand in her hand. A totally relaxed Malfoy stood there, shrugging nonchalantly as if he didn't even see her wand, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

"What part of _stay away_ didn't you understand?" she hissed. What a cheek to invade her apartment!

His smirk disappeared. "That I understood quite well, thank you. What I didn't get is the reason for your change of mind."

"That's none of your concern," she said flatly, still training her wand on him.

"It is," he contradicted calmly and approached her. Automatically, she gripped her wand tighter. She didn't know what to expect of him.

"It's nothing personal and it isn't because of that night … it's just … I am simply not interested in a deeper relationship," she stuttered. "I mean more than colleagues."

The look on his face told her that he didn't believe a word of it. "I thought we established that we are friends. You can't fool me, Hermione, there's something else."

Damn! How was she going to get rid of him? He was as stubborn as a mule. "There isn't. And now go or…"

"Or what?" he challenged.

"Or I'll make you," she snarled, her blood boiling.

He seemed unimpressed. "I'll go if you tell me the truth. Something _is_ wrong, I know it."

Why was he so perceptive? She gritted her teeth. "There isn't. Stop imagining things!"

She could see that she had made him angry, but he tried to repress his temper when he said, "Stop it now, Hermione! You weren't sick last week, so why didn't you come to work? I want the truth."

"The truth, yeah? The truth is that I hate you!" she screamed, desperate to drive him away, pointing at the door. "Leave! I won't say it again."

"You're lying!" he shouted back, his face mirroring hurt and anger at the same time. This words reminded her painfully at a different situation when someone had said exactly the same words.

"Don't you dare to call me a liar!" she yelled, raising her wand again, which she had accidentally lowered.

He closed his eyes for a second, trying hard to calm down; however, his voice still trembled with suppressed anger. "Why do you push me away? Do you really think that badly of me?" She had stepped around the sofa to confront him, and now he closed in on her.

She didn't want to back down and glared at him. "Leave!"

He was very close now, she could even feel the heat radiating from him. "No," he refused stubbornly. Suddenly, she felt panic wash through her, making her guts clench and her hands shake. He was so angry that she could almost feel his rage – albeit he tried to suppress it –, reminding her vividly at scenes from her past.

Attack was the best defence. "If you don't leave now, I'll hex you. I resent you with all my heart. I was so blind to think we could be friends, but you are just the same."

Immediately his face went white and he fell silent. She had hurt him for real this time. What would he do? Her heartbeat accelerated unconsciously, pumping adrenaline through her veins. She was ready to duck, or run, or curse him, should he try anything.

But he just breathed heavily and then stepped back. "I see," he whispered. Without another word he disappeared though the floo, leaving her shaking heavily. Memories overwhelmed her, and she sunk to the floor, crying violently.

* * *

The next weeks went by silently. July passed and they still hadn't spoken to each other again. Every time they caught a glimpse of each other in the hallway Hermione froze like a deer in the spot light. The silence between them seemed nearly deadly by now – like a high wall, impossible to overcome. But then her friends decided to meddle.

Harry normally didn't celebrate his birthday in a big way, so she was a little surprised to receive an invitation – at half past six in the morning – for dinner on the next Saturday. Consequently, she went over to Grimmauld Place to enquire the reasons. It was still early, but Harry was just about to leave for the office when she entered.

"Oh, good morning, Hermione," he grinned way too cheerfully for that early hour. Something was up.

"What is that?" she asked, waving the parchment around.

"Nothing. Just an invitation," he answered innocently, putting on his brown Auror robe.

She tilted her head, not quite ready to believe him yet. "But, why next week? Your birthday was on the 31st."

"Thank you for reminding me," he answered dryly, coaxing a smile out of her. "Ginny gave me the idea. She said it was so long ago that we all were together, you know, the whole family. Everyone's been so absorbed with their work and their own lives. I haven't seen Lavender in donkey's years." He shifted uncomfortably.

Hermione frowned. That sounded reasonable. "Since when do you care about Lavender?"

He laughed lowly. "Come on, Mione. You know what I mean. It'll be fun. Besides, I have holidays until the second week of September, and it'll be the perfect start. We'll have dinner, and then we'll check out some muggle clubs. Since we had kids, Ginny and I haven't had the time to go out. Even though Ginny's pregnant, she wants to do it anyway. You know her."

Hermione chuckled. She could imagine her friend glaring at Harry with her hard, blazing look if he tried to tell her that she shouldn't go out in her state. "Okay. But you'll only get _one_ present."

Now he laughed openly, but quickly shut up to not wake Ginny and the kids. "That's fine by me. Just be there."

She rolled her eyes. "I will."

* * *

The week flew by quicker than she had expected. She'd decided to sleep in on Saturday as she hadn't caught much sleep in the last week, due to some non-negotiable deadlines before the ministry holidays. Furthermore, nightmares tormented her every night since her fight with Malfoy. She was just eating a late breakfast on the balcony, when Ginny appeared through the floo.

"Hi." Hermione waved. "Do you want some?"

Ginny pulled a face. "No. The morning sickness's killing me. It wasn't so bad with James and Albus. But that means it's a girl." She tried to smile, but couldn't hide the tired look on her face.

Instantly, she felt worry for her friend. "Oh, Ginny. I'm so sorry. What does your healer say?"

"Nothing. I haven't told him. I can handle a bit of sickness," she answered briefly. "But I didn't come to talk about me. What are you going to wear tonight?"

Hermione frowned. The excited look on Ginny's face made her feel uneasy. "Please don't tell me you want to go shopping – again!"

"No. I felt, however, you needed a reminder that we're going clubbing," Ginny beamed, probably already doing Hermione's hair in her had. The distinct urge to flee overcame her.

She sighed. "I kno-ow."

"Let me check your wardrobe, anyway," Ginny insisted, and Hermione gave in. Walking into her bedroom, she watched Ginny carefully. The young witch appeared a bit slimmer, paler, and exhausted. Maybe this party wasn't such a good idea. Nevertheless, she rummaged through her closet until she'd found a dress that satisfied Ginny.

"I'll come by later and make your hair," Ginny grinned gleefully.

"Why?" Hermione frowned. The urge to flee became stronger. Her friend seemed stranger every minute.

"You want to be pretty tonight, don't you?" the redhead asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Yes, but … is someone in particular coming?" Hermione's frown deepened. Hopefully, they wouldn't try to set her up with someone.

"No, no, just all the Weasleys, and Andromeda with Teddy, and Neville, and Hannah, and Luna, I guess, and …"

"Ye-hes, I get it," Hermione interrupted her. "If it makes you happy, you're allowed to come by, but not any earlier than two hours before the dinner."

Ginny's bright smile rewarded her instantly. "Perfect. Tonight'll be awesome!"

"Who's taking care of the kids?"

"Oh, Mum and Dad volunteered. They know how to handle our bunch of rascals," Ginny smiled.

* * *

Ginny came as promised, looking gorgeous as ever in a golden dress. Together they transfigured Hermione's hair into a stylish up-do, with vivid curls framing her face, which fitted her green and black dress and discreet make-up.

When they entered the dinner hall together, Hermione stopped in wonder. The room seemed to be twice as big as usual. She handed the salad she had made to Kreacher and started to greet the family members. Everyone had accepted the invitation; even Charlie had come over from Romania. They had just started a lively conversation about the poison of the Peruvian Vipertooth and his use in potions, when everyone gasped and turned around.

Hermione stood on tiptoe to see who had entered and froze. Ice water washed through her veins, making her tremble all over with anger and fear.

 _Draco Malfoy_.

Harry had invited Draco bloody Malfoy!

Before she could act, someone grabbed her arm and pulled her into the next room.

"Ginny, let go of me!" she screamed hysterically.

"Calm down!" her friend demanded, squeezing her shoulders hard to stop her from rushing back.

"What on earth were you thinking? I told you …. I …" she sputtered breathlessly.

"Hermione, calm down!" Ginny said firmly, loosening her grip a little. "This fight you had is so stupid, can't you see that?"

"He called me … a liar. He … he …" Words failed her.

"I know," she sighed, finally letting go of her and stepping back. "He is not Viktor, Hermione. He won't hurt you."

Vehemently Hermione shook her head. Ginny didn't know a thing about Malfoy, but still she tried to set them up. "You don't know that. They are all just the same …"

"They are not and you do know that, Mione. Now, stop being so stubborn and petty –"

" _Petty_?" Hermione exploded. "You have no idea, Ginny! You have _no idea_ how it has been for me, so don't lecture me about relationships!"

Ginny winced. "Hermione, I'm sorry. I just want you to get over this fight and start fresh. You've been so miserable the past weeks, and please don't lie to me now and tell me it has nothing to do with him."

"But –"

"Please. _Please_ try," her friend pleaded, reaching for her hand, but Hermione flinched back. Ginny was right and she hated that. She wanted to be angry at her friend, angry at Malfoy, hell, angry at the whole world.

But she had always been sensible, so she sighed resignedly and gave in. "Why? Why do you like him at all?"

"I just think he could be good for you, that's all." The mischievous gleam in her eyes made Hermione understand. She thought they'd be the perfect couple.

"No, Ginny. That is the worst idea you've ever –"

"Hermione! If you don't calm down this instant, I'll get Harry and then you'll ruin his evening. Do you want that?" she threatened.

Of course she didn't. Now she felt guilty for making a scene, but the emotions still rushed though her, making it impossible to return to the party.

"No," she finally said. "You are right. Can you lend me your office for a few minutes?"

Ginny's gaze scrutinised her, but eventually she nodded. "Okay. But be back before the dinner starts. Ten minutes max."

"Will do," she choked and rushed out of the room. Why was she so emotional? She could feel the tears rising in her throat. Ginny had betrayed her. It had been her plan all along to bring the two together. That was the reason for the party, the dress, the hair, everything…

Hermione didn't know if she should be angry or not. Of course Ginny had meant well, but … the end doesn't justify the means. Still breathing heavily and fighting back those stupid tears, she sat down at Ginny's desk facing the garden window.

She was not ready to make up with Malfoy, nor was she ready for a relationship, even if Ginny wanted her to be. Malfoy had been so angry, and this rage had reminded her so much of Viktor. What if he was just the same? What if she could never be happy and have the life Ginny and Harry were leading?

 _But what if he wasn't?_ , a small voice inside her whispered. _Maybe you can have everything you want? Maybe he is right for you? You can't deny your feelings…_

The voice was right. She couldn't deny her feelings. They were the reason she'd tried to stay away from him in the first place.

Too soon her time was up and she descended, calm and collected on the outside. She was good in hiding her emotions, something she had learned in her previous marriage.

Everyone was still talking and cheering; nobody had noticed her disappearance, except Malfoy. She could feel his eyes on her, following her every move. Maybe she could delay the meeting for a bit. Quickly she sat down between Harry and Ron and listened to their conversation. They had stopped the minute she sat down, and she knew why. Lavender was pregnant as well, so their topic was easy to guess. Now Ron told them about the new inventions in the Joke Shop.

The conversation flowed naturally and she found herself enjoying the company of her friends, although nostalgia was nagging at her. She missed the-three-of-them-against-the-rest-of-the-world-adventures. The food was great and she relished every bite of it. But too soon dinner was over and Molly, Arthur, and Andromeda were saying goodbye, taking the kids with them.

Quickly she went to the kitchen to help Ginny and Kreacher with the cleaning up. She had noticed that Ginny hadn't eaten much and looked very pale now, sick.

"Ginny, are you all right?" she asked worried.

At once, Ginny smiled. "Of course. The cake is troubling me a bit."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. Ginny hadn't touched the cake. Before she could address this, the kitchen door opened, and Malfoy barged in. "Here's where you're hiding."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: [edited 09.05: Thank you for all your reviews! And of course a big THANK YOU to my beta _Cecelia Everhart_ ]**

 **Ready for the drama ahead?**

* * *

Chapter 9: "We are not –"

"I'm not hiding," she snapped. "I'm just helpful."

"Sure," Draco said dryly, turned around, and used his wand to stack the plates.

Ginny shot her a warning glance, so she pulled herself together and murmured, "Did you enjoy the dinner?"

"Immensely," he answered briefly, a light smile on his lips. "But I don't want to talk about the dinner."

"Fine." She fell silent and levitated the plates to the cupboard. He apparently didn't want to talk and neither did she. She wished once again Ginny hadn't invited him.

His soft voice interrupted her sulking. "That doesn't mean I don't want to talk at all. Ginny, we can manage here. Go back to your guests."

Ginny nodded and swayed slightly trying to stand up. Hermione watched her with concern, but before she could follow her friend, Draco thrust a silver tray in her hand. "Where do I put this?"

She rolled her eyes and levitated the tray to its assigned place. It was obviously an attempt to keep her here.

"She's quite a matchmaker, isn't she?" he suddenly said.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"If you want to pretend – fair enough."

Hermione sighed. "She wants us to make a fresh start." She blinked self-consciously. "Would you want that?"

He interrupted his wand movement. "Do _you_?"

"That was not my question." He stared at her, unblinking. "Fine. We can try, but I can't promise you that it'll work," she agreed, rolling her eyes.

"Same here," he chuckled, but turned serious a second later. "Unless you meant what you said about me."

She instantly knew what he meant, and she regretted ever saying it. "That I hate you?"

He nodded. "And that I haven't changed." His voice was careful, strangely detached, pretending he didn't care about her answer.

"Of course, I didn't mean it. I was angry and scared, okay?" she whispered, avoiding his eyes.

"Good. Because I didn't mean what I said." She felt his warm hand on her arm and looked up.

"Friends?" he asked, offering her one of the last cupcakes.

"Friends," she agreed, chuckling. Somehow it was so easy to talk to him, but she shouldn't get lost in him, shouldn't allow her feelings to rule her decisions.

"Ey, Love-birds. We're leaving," Charlie suddenly interrupted them, grinning. Hermione jumped in surprise and glared at him.

"We are not –"

Charlie only laughed and left again. Draco rolled his eyes. "Shall we?"

She nodded.

"You look beautiful, by the way," he said casually, holding the door open for her.

"Thank you," she answered shyly. Of course he didn't mean it. He just said it, because they were friends now. Viktor had never said such things – rather the opposite.

"Was the Slytherin green dress deliberate?" He grinned cheekily at her.

She looked down and sighed again. " _Ginny_."

Draco burst out laughing. "She probably would've convinced me to wear Gryffindor dress robes if she'd had the chance."

"Probably," Hermione agreed. The conversation made her feel uncomfortable again. Quickly she followed Luna, who was wearing a bright silver and yellow dress that seemed to glow in the dark, out of the entrance door. "Hey Luna, do you know, where we're going?"

Luna shrugged. "No, sorry, Hermione. I never really went clubbing in London." Her gaze wandered between her and Draco. "I like your dress; it matches your boyfriend."

"We are not –" Before she could finish her sentence, Harry appeared in front of them.

"Luna, Hermione, Malfoy, you go together with Ginny and me. Here, we have timed portkeys. Every two hours it'll transport us to the next club. So stay together." He showed them the inconspicuous wristband he was wearing. "It won't get lost that way," he explained.

"Perfect," Hermione praised. Everyone put his hands on Harry's wrist, and a few seconds later she felt the familiar hook behind her navel, transporting them to the first location.

She landed hard on the pavement, twisting her ankle slightly because of the high heels. Instantly Draco's hand came out of nowhere and steadied her. Damn, normally she wasn't that clumsy.

"Is your ankle fine?" he asked. Was that real concern in his voice?

"Yes," she answered quickly, although it was stinging slightly.

"Take my arm," he offered. "The cobbles are dangerous with your shoes."

She hesitated for a second, but she could detect no ulterior motive behind his words. He was just a gentleman. "Okay." She took his arm and followed Luna and the others to the club. The beat instantly pulsated through her, making her feel giddy.

"Drinks?" he suggested.

"Good idea," she smiled and followed him to the bar. "But you do know that they don't have Firewhiskey?"

He laughed. "Then you order."

She grinned smugly. "Two whiskeys. No ice."

Their drinks were in front of them a moment later, and she held up her glass. "To Harry."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Just because I'm friends with Wonder Boy now, doesn't mean I want to drink to him."

"Okay, then to our friendship. _Prost_."[1]

He beamed. " _Prost_."

She had just emptied her glass, when Ginny pulled her to the dance floor. After two hours they left for the next club and then the next. Hermione felt a bit drunk by now because she normally didn't drink whiskey or anything potent. Everyone seemed to enjoy themselves, dancing and laughing. She watched Hannah and Neville kiss, Ron and Lavender nearly eating each other's faces as usual, George and Angelina holding hands, Bill and Fleur dancing together, Ginny and Harry embracing each other, and even Percy and Audrey were kissing heatedly, and Charlie, too, had picked up some muggle girl, dancing closely together.

Suddenly she felt miserable. Everyone was so happy, so in love and she … was alone. Bitter, she went to the bar and ordered another whiskey. She emptied it in one gulp and ordered the next one.

"Hermione, what do you think you're doing?" asked a soft voice next to her. "If you want to get drunk, you could've at least invited me to join you."

She bit her lip and tried to hide her sadness. "Okay, next one is on me."

"Nonsense, I'm the rich guy. I pay." He chuckled and handed her the glass. "What's wrong? You look … crestfallen."

Damn, she couldn't fool him for even a second. "Nothing." Abruptly she put her glass down. She really didn't want to talk about her feelings now. "I'm going to go dancing."

Without a moment's hesitation, she decided to pick up a hot guy, like all the others had done, and snog him. Maybe it would ease her loneliness, her pain. Soon the perfect candidate approached her, handsome and a bit drunk. He wouldn't care if she looked ugly. At four in the morning nobody cared.

She smiled at him and batted her lashes. He reacted at once and started dancing with her, his hands all over her body. However, it didn't make her feel better at all, but maybe she just wasn't used to this anymore.

"You're boyfriend wants to kill me," he screamed in her ear.

She turned and spotted Draco at the bar, glaring at them. "We are not –"

"Good," he grinned and, without warning, started to kiss her.

She felt … _nothing_. It was wet and disgusting, no sparks whatsoever. So she tried to push him away, but he just pulled her closer. She contemplated to hex him, just a small hex, but before she could act, he was pushed aside.

"What do you think you're doing?" Ginny snapped angrily. "You and me, bathroom, now!"

Astonished she followed Ginny to the girl's bathroom. "What? Why can't I have fun as well?"

Ginny seemed to be glowing with anger … or was it disappointment? "Oh, you had fun? Sorry, for me it looked like you were about to hex him," she deadpanned.

Hermione pressed her lips together and looked away.

Ginny sighed and softened her voice. "So, I'm right. Why did you do it?"

Of course she wouldn't understand. "Doesn't matter."

"It does. Haven't you seen the look on Malfoy's face? If I hadn't separated you, he would've." Suddenly, Ginny didn't seem angry at all anymore; instead a sad expression had crept on her face.

Hermione didn't care if she'd hurt Draco or Ginny or if she'd just destroyed her friend's matchmaking plan. "I don't care," she snarled and then abruptly turned around. "I just wanted to feel … _wanted_ for one minute, and not ugly, and lonely, and desperate." She put her hands under the cool water and instantly felt sorry. It really wasn't Ginny's fault that she was unhappy. "But thank you for saving me. It didn't really work," Hermione added sheepishly.

Ginny smiled sadly. "Only because it wasn't the right person. Could you conjure a glass for me, I think I need some water."

"Of course." Hermione had been so focused on her own problems she hadn't noticed Ginny's condition. The redhead had put a hand against the wall for support, but was still swaying slightly. "Here." Hermione handed her the glass and watched her with concern. "You should go home. You look dead tired."

"No. I'm… I'm fine." Her face turned ashen and she clenched her fists. Then she turned and ran to a toilet.

"Ginny!"Quickly Hermione was by her side and hold her hair. "Ginny, please. Go home."

"No." Ginny staggered to her feet and went to the basin to rinse out her mouth. "Don't tell Harry."

"Ginny…" She pleaded softly, concern evident in her voice.

Her friend gave her a hard look, but suddenly she turned even paler. "Hermione…" Her grip on the basin loosened and Hermione watched her fall in slow motion.

Her fingertips only touched her wand, but her non-verbal _Immobulus_ worked anyway. Just in time, before Ginny hit the floor hard. "Ginny." She kneeled down, checked her pulse, and splashed water on the witch's face, but Ginny stayed unconscious. "Shit. _Harry_!" she cried out, but nobody heard her; they were all on the dance floor and she couldn't just leave Ginny on the floor or conjure a Patronus with all the muggles. She needed to see a healer immediately.

Desperately, she dashed out of the bathroom and nearly collided with a tall, blond figure.

"Draco, thank god. Ginny, she collapsed!" she screamed nearly in tears.

"Where?" he asked immediately. "I'll bring her to St. Mungos, you get Harry."

She pointed at the door with the _ladies_ sign. "Please hurry. Tell them about her pregnancy and that she was throwing up."

He simply nodded and disappeared though the door. Meanwhile Hermione spun around and sprinted to the dance floor. "Harry, Harry!" Damn, where was he? " _Point me_!" she whispered and let her wand guide her way. Nobody noticed anyway. She found him near the exit.

"Hermione, there you are –" he stopped in mid-sentence. She wondered how her face looked to have evoked this reaction. "What's wrong?"

"Ginny, she collapsed. Draco apparated her to St. Mungos," she explained hastily, wringing her hands.

Harry's whole posture changed. The relaxed, happy boy disappeared and was replaced by the deathly pale man who seemed to be carrying the world on his shoulders.

"Go. I tell the others," she offered automatically. Harry nodded thankfully and dashed out.

It wasn't easy to find everyone, but luckily the two hours were almost up, so the party guests were strolling to the meeting point. Hastily she explained what had happened, and then they collectively apparated to St. Mungos, leaving the portkeys in a trash bin.

* * *

[1] _Prost_. German for cheers.

 **So ... I hope you liked it. If you did, leave me a review, if you didn't, review anyway - I'm always open for constructive criticism! ;)**

 **Thaaaaank you. xxx**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Hi guys, here comes a really long chapter for you - well, long compared to my other chapters. They have quite a lot to talk about...**

 **So, enjoy! And please review! *puppy eyes***

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10\. What Lies Beneath

Draco hated hospitals. They made him feel sick and scared. A look around told him that everyone else felt the same. All clubbers were waiting in the reception room of St. Mungos, just Harry as Ginny's husband was allowed into her room. Hermione looked … he couldn't describe it properly; there were traces of guilt in her eyes and fear in her frown, her fists were clenched to keep her hands from shaking. He wanted to soothe her, but he didn't know what to say.

Suddenly a door opened and Harry entered the room, looking tired but alleviated. A collective sigh of relief surged through the crowd, even before he opened his mouth.

"Ginny's okay, the baby as well. She is sleeping now. She was mainly dehydrated and over-exerted, but they gave her some potions and … she is fine now." He tried to smile, but failed. Hermione jumped up instantly and embraced him. "I'm so sorry, Harry, I should've said something or done something …"

"It's okay," he whispered barely audible, but clung to her as if his life depended on it. Finally, he stepped away and declared, "She'll be back home tomorrow, so if you want to visit her …" His voice trailed away. Abruptly, he turned around and disappeared into Ginny's room. Ron had jumped up as well and hugged Hermione now, who was unable to stop her tears.

Slowly the group broke up and gradually people returned home. Draco followed Hermione to the floo.

"Hey, are you all right? It wasn't your fault," he said quickly.

She turned around, tears still streaming over her face. "I'm so sorry, D-Draco, for e-everything," she sobbed bitterly. "I treated you a-awfully because I – I was scared and because I'm l-lonely and a complete f-f-failure."

"Shh," he comforted her in a low voice and pulled her into him. "It's okay. You're not a failure. Shh." He let her cry into his robes and rubbed her back until she had calmed down a bit. Everyone had left by now and absolutely nobody seemed to be present in the whole hospital. It was deadly quite.

"Draco?" she whispered. "We are friends now, right?"

He nodded.

"So could I ask … could you … I don't want to be alone. Could you come with me?" she stuttered, avoiding his eyes. He knew she didn't imply anything, she just wanted some comfort, and he'd gladly give it to her.

"Of course," he answered sincerely and guided her to the fireplace.

Back at her place he automatically put the kettle on, while she disappeared into the bathroom to change and wash away the smeared make-up. In the time she returned, the tea was ready. She had stopped crying, but her eyes were puffy and swollen.

"Here," he offered, handing her the cup.

"Thanks," she mumbled. Suddenly, the alcohol she had drunken became noticeable, and she nearly stumbled before sitting down.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked after a few minutes of silence.

"About what?" she slurred.

"Today? Everything…?" he suggested. He still didn't know what to make of her behaviour. When she had kissed that guy, the monster inside him wanted to rip them apart and scream at her and punch the other guy. Jealousy was a cruel thing. What had Shakespeare written? _'O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth mock the meat it feeds on.'_ Somehow he didn't feel like this was the right moment to impress her with his knowledge of muggle literature.

"You want to know why I felt guilty?" she asked shakily.

"Amongst other things."

A deep sigh escaped her lips. "Let's make a deal. We ask each other questions by turn."

"But maybe you should take some sober-up potion first, so you remember my answers," he joked.

"You're right. It's too late. The sun is already rising. We'll do this tomorrow," she whispered, rubbing her temples.

"Promise?" The hope was evident in his voice. Would she finally let him in?

"Promise." Tiredly, she handed him a blanket. "Do you mind, if I leave the door open?"

His eyes turned soft at her vulnerability. He knew how much it cost her to show it to him. "No. Tyger, tyger, remember?"

She smiled faintly. "Good night."

He watched her walking into her bedroom but leaving the door wide open. The room was still dark, so he could only see a shadow crawling beneath the blankets. He watched her until he was sure she was sound asleep, then he transfigured his robes into more comfortable clothes and stretched out on the couch. Thank Merlin he was a wizard. How did muggles manage to sleep on too hard and too small sofas at all?

He felt bone tired, but sleep simply wouldn't come. She was sleeping only a few metres away from him. He could even hear her breathing. So he tossed and turned till the wee hours of the morning.

* * *

Draco woke up with a jolt. For a second, he didn't recognise his surroundings, but then it dawned on him. He was in Hermione's apartment. Bright sunlight streamed through the blinds, making him feel like Thor was using his head as training target for Mjölnir, his hammer. He groaned and closed his eyes again.

Something had woken him, maybe a nightmare, but he couldn't quite catch it. He didn't feel ready to stand up now, even with the hangover-potion he kept in his pockets. All of a sudden Hermione started screaming loudly. "No, n-no. Ginny! No!"

At once he rose and sprinted to her room.

"Please, Viktor!" she screamed again in a voice that terrified him.

"Hermione! _WAKE UP_!" he roared, and this time she heard him at once, jerking awake. Panting heavily, she stared at him with big, frightened eyes, still held captive by her nightmare. "Tyger, tyger," he stated rapidly.

She blinked, then blinked again, and finally groaned. "Ouh, my head."

"Here." Swiftly he put the potion into her numb fingers. "Drink that. You'll feel better in a minute." She still appeared pale and drawn, not quite in the reality yet. But her eyes became clearer every second and soon she focused on him. "Draco. Oh, I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologise. I was awake anyway." He smiled and squeezed her hand.

He knew quite a bit about nightmares – unfortunately – but _her_ nightmares … they were something different. He normally didn't thrash about or used accidental magic like she did, furthermore, his nightmares weren't quite as intense as hers seemed to be. And he had never screamed the name of his ex. That wasn't normal, so, he deduced, something bad had happened between them. He felt the urge to ask her, but she didn't appear ready yet, so instead he helped her stand up and then went into the kitchen to make some breakfast. His headaches subdued after taking the potion, and when he opened her fridge, he noticed how hungry he was. He piled everything he could find onto the table and waited impatiently for Hermione. When she entered, she looked better, but still not like her usual self.

"You made breakfast?" she asked incredulously.

"Ey! Don't be so surprised. I know how to cook for myself."

"Well, then thank you." She smiled and sat down. As soon as she touched the first slice of toast, he started stuffing food in his mouth.

"So, does your offer still stand?" he asked, after he had swallowed half a slice of toast with jam.

"You mean from last night? To answer your questions?" Her voice was careful, timid, as if she wasn't sure he'd remember.

He nodded. _Please, say yes, please, please_ , he pleaded inwardly. He couldn't let her push him away anymore.

"I owe you, so of course. You get 10 questions, but only if I get 10 in return," she demanded, a light smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

He liked the way she negotiated. "Fair enough. Do you want to start or shall I?"

"Shoot," she said and stared at him expectantly.

There were so many questions buzzing around in his head. He wanted to be careful to not fail the trust she had put in him. "Well," he started, biting into another slice of toast, "why did you feel guilty?" That was probably the question she expected.

"This is a longer story," she mumbled and sipped her tea. "If I tell you, please don't judge me."

"I would never –"

She held up her hand. "And let me finish."

He nodded silently.

"Okay. The obvious reason is that I've been seeing Ginny for weeks now and I didn't notice how bad she really felt. I was only thinking about me and my self-pity. Especially yesterday … she was so pale. I shouldn't have let her go out or I should have told Harry. I know he'll feel miserable, because he's her husband and he didn't do anything to prevent it. Anyway." She swallowed. "The reason I feel even guiltier is that I was jealous of Ginny. It's her third baby now, and I – I wanted children so badly. But it didn't work with Viktor and me. I'm such a selfish person. I thought about how I envied her, but …" She stopped, shaking. "If something would've happened to her or the baby … I don't know if I had survived that. I'm such an awful friend."

"You are not, Hermione. If you hadn't been there with her in the bathroom, Merlin knows what could've happened," he tried to comfort her. "Please, stop feeling guilty because of something as petty as jealousy."

She shrugged. "You don't need to cheer me up." Then she tilted her head a bit, watching him carefully. "So you don't want children?"

"Is that your first question?"

She nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Well, my mother would be heartbroken and my father furious because, without children, the Malfoy line would end. But for me, personally, I don't think I've ever really considered the possibility of not having children since it was expected of me. However, Astoria and I never married and without marriage, no children." He smiled nonchalantly. "So, I really don't know. I don't think I have a choice in that matter."

Suddenly, Hermione looked downcast. "Oh."

"What?" he enquired.

"Nothing, just … what if your future wife can't have children, what would you do?" she asked out of the blue.

He pulled a face. "I really don't know. It's not her fault, so I wouldn't judge her, or pressure her, or anything …" he said slowly, guessing the background of her question. "We would find a way. Does that answer your question?"

She nodded slightly.

"Then, here's my next one for you. Is that what Viktor did? Pressure you? Is that, why he was in your nightmare tonight?"

She froze and stared at him like a deer caught in the headlights. "That's two questions."

"Humour me."

She swallowed hard and started to put some chocolate cream on her toast. He knew she was stalling, but he was prepared to wait. After a while she finally whispered, "You are right. Ginny and Lavender were having babies soon after they'd married, but we didn't … and he blamed me." She closed her eyes for a moment. "We had so many fights about it. That was the reason I was jealous as well. At that time, I thought if I could only get pregnant, it'd fix our marriage. I felt awful for not being the wife I should be."

Draco clenched his teeth, but remained silent. Of course, she would feel that way. She was always good at everything, and then she was blamed for the one thing she had no control over. How could that Viktor bloke do that to her?

"And yes, that was the reason for my nightmare. I don't exactly remember what I dreamt, but the hospital, and the fear, and the guilt … it all triggered it," she continued. "Why didn't you and Astoria marry?"

He shrugged. "It wouldn't have felt right somehow. In the end we just didn't work out. There's nothing dramatic about it. We just fell out of love."

"That sounds like it was easy, but I bet it wasn't."

"It never is. We are still in contact, friends. But she's engaged to a Ravenclaw now." He shook his head. "Michael Corner, I think."

She frowned, trying to picture the together. "Oh, wow. I really need to read _Witch Weekly_ more often. I had no idea."

He chuckled.

"So, after your break-up … Harry said, you were quite a womanizer," she carefully continued, avoiding his gaze.

"Oh, did he?" Draco grinned. "That wasn't exactly a question, but I'll answer you anyway. I'm not going to say he's wrong. Everyone processes a break-up differently."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but grinned back. "Now, we're even. Question number four. Shoot."

He pondered on that for a moment and then said, "Now that you know about my relationship, I always wondered why you and Weasley didn't end up together." He noticed that she had tensed up, probably expecting him to ask about Viktor, but that seemed to be dangerous terrain.

"That's kind of a long story as well," she sighed.

Now he was intrigued. Everyone, even the Slytherins, had expected them to marry and live happily ever after. When they – 'the perfect couple' – had broken up during their last year in Hogwarts, even he had wondered about it, although he had been absorbed by his own drama most of the time. "I'm all ears."

She put the toast down and folded her hands nervously. "After the war, I decided to come back to school to complete my NEWTs as you probably remember."

He nodded, although she didn't look up, keeping her gaze fixated on her folded fingers.

"Well, things between me and Ron got worse with every month that passed, me having so much to do with being Honorary Head Girl and all. I was very lonely if I'm honest. Harry and Ron were away, accepted into the auror programme, Lavender was still in the hospital, it was only Parvati, Luna, Ginny, Demelza, and me. Parvati was very close with her twin, Luna started dating Neville, Ginny had Harry, and Demelza … well. I hadn't had close contact with her before the war; we hadn't much to talk about. So I spent my Hogsmeade weekends mostly alone. Harry, of course, offered to let me join him and Ginny, but they'd enough to work out between the two of them. At first, I understood that Ron didn't visit, he was still absorbed in grief; meanwhile, he helped George in his free time with the stupid joke shop, and then he had to study for his exams. But I felt neglected. We'd had a great summer together – I mean great relationship wise, otherwise it was probably the worst summer in my life, with all the … funerals." She swallowed hard.

"He owled me every day at the beginning, but then it was only twice a week, and in December I was lucky if I received an answer at all. Harry wrote me of course, but … it's not the same. And suddenly I received an owl from Viktor. He asked me how I've been, he'd read a lot about me in the papers, but he wanted to hear my story. He also told me what had happened to him during the war and more than I wanted to know about Quidditch."

Draco couldn't help but chuckle, she ignored him, though.

"It was just nice. A pen friendship – nothing more. I stayed at the burrow over Christmas, my parents were still in Australia, and at first it was so nice to be surrounded by family. But Ron was distant, I could see that he was hurting – it was the first Christmas without Fred – but he wouldn't let me help him. Harry still had horrible nightmares and Ginny stayed with him, so I hoped that Ron'd move into my room, that he'd ease my nightmares from Bellatrix." She deliberately avoided his eyes. "He didn't. And then, on the 26th I got a letter and little gift from Viktor, a bit late, I know, but his owl got lost in a snow storm. He told me that he'd be in Britain from February onwards with his Quidditch team and that we could meet in Hogsmeade, if I'd like to. Ron completely freaked out. He reproached me for cheating on him and so on, therefore, I decided to break up with him. I didn't deserve to be treated like … well, it doesn't matter anymore." She had kept her voice carefully neutral, but now a slight shaking crept into her tone. "I left the burrow and moved with Harry into Grimmauld Place Number 12. I helped him redecorate, that took my mind off things. It was only a few days until school started. It was horrible to go back to Hogwarts, though … somehow the press had got wind of our breakup, and they gave me a really hard time." The words had bubbled out of her mouth, she hadn't seemed able to stop them, but now she pressed her lips together and stared out of the window.

"I'm sorry that Weasley was a bloody moron," he started, but then his voice trailed away into nothing. What could he possibly say?

"Doesn't matter now, does it?" she said blankly. "My turn."

He smiled at her encouragingly. Now she lifted her gaze, staring him square in the eye, and asked point-blank, "Did you really want me dead in second year?"

He stiffened. "How'd you know?"

"It's my turn. I'll answer later," she said briskly, watching him like a hawk.

He bit his lip insecurely. "Yes and no. I always bragged around with my dislike for muggle-borns, that's how I was brought up. But I really can't imagine that I wanted you dead for real. The thought makes me sick."

"Good," she said firmly.

"So, how did you know?"

She smiled deviously. "I made Polyjuice potion in second year, so we could figure out the truth about the Chamber of Secrets. I don't know if you remember that day, but Crabbe and Goyle behaved strangely. That was because they weren't Crabbe and Goyle. They were Harry and Ron."

He looked at her in surprise. "You're bloody brilliant. But why didn't _you_ come?"

She blushed. "Little accident with the hair I collected. My turn."

"Fine," he grumbled although he definitely would have like to know more about the 'hair-accident'.

She bit her lip. "Do you think I'm …"

He narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"Pathetic," she choked out.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Why would I think that?"

She shrugged nonchalantly.

"Of course I don't! That thought never crossed my mind. If it's because of the nightmares, that doesn't make you pathetic. I actually think you're even stronger than in Hogwarts. Hurt yes, but strong."

She stared at him and he could see that she didn't buy it, although it was nothing but the truth. It gave him strange feelings – like cramps – in his chest, this look in her eyes.

"Why?" she asked muffled.

"Because … because you put your chin up and straighten your back if something scares you; because you have that look in your eyes and I know I shouldn't stand in your way; because I ... because I like you."

She narrowed her cinnamon eyes, x-raying him. "You mean that?"

"Why would I lie to you? By the way, that was your seventh question, my turn."

"That's not fair," she argued. "It was supposed to be my fifth."

The change of subject had worked. "But you asked me three questions." He held up his hands. "Fine, six then, satisfied?"

She smiled wanly. "Okay…"

He nodded and stared into his tea cup for a moment, gathering strength for his next question that could go horribly wrong. "Why did you push me away after your visit at the Manor and the night …?"

She frowned. This was obviously a question she had hoped he wouldn't ask. "Well, because I realised something."

His heart beat sharply against his ribs for fear what she would say. "Realised what?" She wasn't off the hook yet.

Abruptly, she stood up and went to the window. "I realised that I liked you."


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Chocolate cookies to my beta Cecelia Everhart for correcting this chapter. Last chapter it was Hermione's past, this one we'll see a bit more of Draco.**

* * *

 _"_ _I realised that I liked you."_

* * *

11\. Truth

Hermione didn't turn while she said it and waited nervously for his reaction, not daring to turn around.

"I don't understand," he muttered finally.

Slowly, she looked back to him. He appeared more happy than shocked. "I didn't _want_ to like you, I didn't _want_ to let you in. I was scared you'd hurt me, like I've been hurt before. I wanted to protect myself from an irrational decision made out of loneliness and need. Pathetic, you see?" she explained, carefully avoiding his stormy eyes.

Slowly, he got up and approached her. She was already standing against the window, so there was no way to evade him. "That's not pathetic. My relationships haven't been as hurtful as yours have been. But at that time I simply didn't understand. I thought … I thought you detested me, you really considered me the same person I was in Hogwarts."

She shook her head. "I didn't."

Before she could say anything, he stood right in front of her. "When you said you liked me… what did you mean?"

Nervous butterflies flattered around in her stomach. "Actually, it's my turn."

"Please," he pleaded, eyes like melted silver.

"Don't make me do this," she whispered, putting her hands on his chest as if to push him away; she didn't, though.

"Then, I'll go first," he said with a trembling voice. Heat was radiating of him like he was his own sun. "I really like you. More than in a friendship kind of way. You don't know how it makes me feel … you touching me. It's so simple, but it feels like someone put gasoline inside me and lighted it."

She felt a bit overwhelmed by his confession, but didn't pull her hands away. "Draco, I …" she breathed. "I can't. It's too fast. I'm not ready."

"It's fine, Hermione," he answered softly. "I don't want to rush this." He gingerly placed his hands over hers, and she felt his touch go right through her, making the butterflies in her stomach go wild with pleasure. It eased the pain and the loneliness in a way the kiss with that guy last night couldn't. She felt that she was slowly falling for him, but they had just made up last night, so this was way too fast for her. Besides, she couldn't really believe that he liked her, that _he'd_ fall for _her_. But he didn't move, didn't push her away. They just stood there for half an eternity, giving comfort to each other.

Finally, she stepped back and looked up into his eyes, which appeared very dark now, less silver more like smoky quartz.

"Are you okay?" he whispered.

She nodded silently, not trusting her voice yet.

"Thank you, Hermione."

She tilted her head. "For what?"

"For trusting me," he smiled.

"You're welcome," she answered and marveled at the look on his face, like the sun had come up suddenly and he was admiring it. "It's my turn now."

"Maybe we should take a break," he suggested.

"No. It feels right." She felt so connected, so close right now, she didn't want to lose that.

"Then ask," he agreed and they sat back down at the table.

She took a deep breath. "How did you feel after the war?" She felt secure enough now to ask him very personal questions.

"The war." He swallowed hard. "I was so young, we were all too young when we got involved and, to be honest, it … it crushed me. Everything I thought was right proved to be very, very wrong. My world view changed, so, of course, it devastated me. That alone was a lot to handle. But … I've seen and felt more terrible things than I've ever wanted to." He looked very vulnerable for a moment and she was happy that he'd let her see it. At the same time she felt so much compassion and sympathy for him, but he wasn't finished yet.

"You know my father was sentenced for his crimes, like my mother, with a fine and regular meetings with a ministry official, where they had to disclose their whereabouts and everything the ministry wanted to know. I, on the other hand, received what the ministry considered a mild sentence, but only because Potter, Weasel, and you vouched for me." His gaze connected with her eyes for as second but then returned to his hands.

"That had surprised me to no end, as you can imagine. I hadn't helped you in any way. You should've been pleading for Azkaban." She could hear his self-hatred with every word he uttered, his fists clenching and unclenching. "I had to help rebuild Hogwarts in the summer and pass my NEWTs with excellent marks, which I managed successfully. Besides, I had to attend Muggle studies." Suddenly he looked very sick and she was not sure why. "I know you used to attend it, so you remember Professor Burbage," he added with a heavily shaking voice.

"I do," she answered, although he hadn't expected her to.

"I had to watch her … die."His face was ashen, and she understood that this memory must be extremely painful to him. Slowly, she touched his back of the hand with her fingertips. He took a deep breath and nodded thankfully.

"You'll understand that it wasn't too pleasant for me. Hogwarts, in general, didn't go so well; not many of my former friends returned, and I'd been equally lonely as you. Actually most of the students tried to bully me or other Slytherins … but you and the other Heads quickly put an end to it. Still, I'd had hideous nightmares, I couldn't sleep, I couldn't be alone in a room because then the loneliness would devour me, I couldn't stand the dark anymore because monsters were hiding in the shadows…" His voice trailed away.

"I'm so sorry, Draco," she whispered barely audible. She'd had no idea. Although she had fulfilled her duties as Head Girl and protected students, especially Slytherins, from vengeance and bullying, she had never, not for even second, thought about how it had been for Draco.

"Don't be." His hands tightened around hers. "You did help me then, even though I didn't deserve it. I had all that coming and you know that."

"But…"

He interrupted her, "But somehow I managed my eighth year and got accepted into the Department of Intoxicating Substances. And that brought me here. I should be happy."

She could relate to his self-hatred although she didn't share it. The look on his face was so dark. "Don't think about it. I'll protect you from the monsters in the shadows," she breathed.

He smiled weakly. "I know. Most of them are gone. At least Wonder Boy killed the worst of them all. You need to tell me about that year sometime, but … I want to use my next question for something else."

She nodded expectantly, focusing back on the original objective of their conversation. But somehow the image of a seventeen-year old, sickly pale boy pushed itself back into her mind.

"Why did you kiss that muggle yesterday?" he changed the topic unexpectedly and the image vanished.

All of a sudden, she felt a bit panicked. "I've told you before – I was feeling lonely. Everyone around me was hugging, and kissing, and so fulfilled in their relationships. Something I've never had. I wanted the …" She hesitated a moment. "…the pain to go away. I tried drinking, but then you showed up with your perceptiveness, and I had to get some distance. I didn't want you to see how deep my inner abyss is. Well, I grabbed that boy in the hope to feel sparks, passion, _something_ – anything else than pain." Her voice broke. She realised that she had never before let somebody in like this. Yes, Harry knew almost everything, but … not about this. She had expected to fall into pieces again as soon as the dark thoughts invaded her mind, but she didn't. Maybe that warm, strong hand in hers kept her from falling apart. "I saw your face back then. I wonder … what were you thinking?"

His face gave away nothing at all. "Is this you official eighth question?" he asked without inflection.

She shrugged. "Why not."

"I …" He stopped to collect his thoughts. "I was awfully jealous. I wanted to rip you both apart and punch that other bloke for touching you, but I didn't. Maybe I should've. You didn't look too happy."

"You were jealous because of that random guy?" she asked surprised.

He shrugged nonchalantly, staring at his hands again. "Sorry. It's stupid. But you asked me, and I told you the truth."

"Thanks," she answered thoughtfully. So, he might be the jealous type, like … both of her exes. She shuddered.

He seemed to guess where her thoughts had wandered and explained, "No need to worry about it, Hermione. I can control myself."

She bet he could. He was always controlled, except with her. Sometimes she could see his emotions displaying on his face and not just the mask he wore for the rest of the world. "I wasn't worried," she lied. "Your turn."

"I think …" he started and stood up, offering her his hand. "… I'm going to save my two questions, and we'll have some fun instead. What do you think?"

"What exactly do you have in mind?" she asked, taking his hand automatically.

He tilted his head. "We can do some sightseeing, a museum, or a park, or a city, whatever you want. Being a wizard has to be good for something," he smiled. "Think about it. I'll be back in a few minutes. I desperately need a shower and another of those hangover potions."

"Me too," she nodded.

"Good." He lifted their still connected hands and gently kissed hers, like an old-fashioned gentleman. Instantly she blushed. "I'll be back, Hermione." With that, he stepped into her fireplace and flooed away before she could free herself from this state of wonder and shock. Quickly, she cleaned up the table and jumped into the shower herself.

He was going to come back, wasn't he? Maybe she should check on Ginny and Harry in the meantime? She should really get herself an owl, though Crookshanks was not helpful in that matter. Incoherent thoughts like that rushed through her mind, while she tried to reflect on her morning. She would never have guessed that she would end up having a date with Draco Malfoy. It was a date, wasn't it?

Moreover, she had learned so many new things about him and about herself that it nearly overwhelmed her. It was good that he had left because, if he would see her right now, he would cancel their date. She found herself shaking uncontrollably with panic, curled up beneath the shower.

Draco bloody Malfoy said he liked her. And she kind of liked him back. Oh my god, what had she got herself into? She should really cancel that date. She didn't date. It wouldn't end well. It couldn't. She was such a mess, and he'd realise that the second he came back – how could he not? – and then he'd leave her standing there like a bag of rubbish…

However, the warm water helped her to collect her thoughts and to calm down. It still took her a few minutes until she was able to venture out of the comforting shower. Hurriedly, she slipped into her favourite summer dress – cornflower blue with white spots – and applied some discreet make-up. He could show up every minute. Nervously, she glanced at her watch. Where could they go?

She pondered over that for a minute and decided it was time to show him more about her past.

* * *

 **Where could they be going? Do you want a tip?**

 _The sunlight that streamed through the trees painted golden patterns on the symphony of blue, white, and lilac flowers, which covered the ground as far as Draco could see. It was truly beautiful._

 **Any guesses?**

 **Anyway, I wanted to thank everyone who reviewed! Keep it up, guys.**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Tadaaaa! The solution is: Forest of Dean. Many thanks to _Cecelia Everhart_ for betaing this. Enjoy!**

* * *

12\. Forest of Dean

The sunlight that streamed through the trees painted golden patterns on the symphony of blue, white, and lilac flowers, which covered the ground as far as Draco could see. It was truly beautiful.

"Where are we?" he whispered amazed.

She smiled like a sphinx. "Forest of Dean. Follow me."

As if he could have done anything else.

Still admiring the beauty of the nature, he stumbled after her over the narrow path that meandered through the forest. "What did you want to show me?"

She only laughed at his impatience and led him to a pond, a lake, in the middle of nowhere. The water was crystal-clear and reflected the sunshine like a silver mirror.

"A puddle of water?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"It is very significant puddle of water." She laughed like a bell and wandered around it to a fallen tree, where no grass was growing and the earth appeared burnt. "Harry and I were here in winter 1997, just after Christmas. Our tent was over there." She waved her hand to indicate a rough direction. Automatically, he held his breath. Was she telling him, what he thought she was telling him?

"And here …" She pointed at the dead spot on the ground. "Here, Ron destroyed one of the Horcruxes with the Sword of Gryffindor." She stated it so matter-of-factly, as if he she was talking about the weather.

"What?" He exclaimed. He had read about the Horcruxes, but not much existed. The only book that explained their use, but not their making, was _The History of the Second Wizarding War_.

"Harry was keeping watch and suddenly a doe appeared. It was Snape's patronus. It led Harry to this lake, where Snape had put the sword beforehand. Stupid as he is, Harry simply jumped in, instead of telling me. He was wearing another Horcrux – Salazar Slytherin's locket, the one we stole in the Ministry – around his neck, and, of course, the bloody thing tried to kill him, but luckily Ron showed up and saved his ass. Then they destroyed it."

Draco frowned. This was a lot of information to process. "He jumped into a frozen lake?"

"That was all you got from my explanation?"

"No, but … it must've been freezing!" he exclaimed, lifting his arms to emphasise his point.

"That's why I said that he's stupid," she countered.

Draco let his gaze wander over the area and suddenly realised a fault in her tale. "But, if he didn't tell you, how did _Weasley_ know?"

Her smile disappeared. "He'd left us," she answered briefly. "But he came back. That's all that matters in the end."

"You forgave him," he stated, frowning.

"Of course. But that doesn't mean that I wasn't … very angry with him." Draco had the feeling that she skipped something, but he didn't dare to ask. "I'll show you, where the tent was."

"You were living in a _tent_ for almost a whole year?" he asked incredulously. He really couldn't imagine doing that.

She held her head high. "So what? It was a magical tent. Food was the only problem as it is the first of the five Principal Exceptions to—"

„Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration. Yes, I know," he finished her sentence.

She looked at him a little surprised but quickly pulled herself together. „That's correct."

He burst out laughing. She had sounded awfully like Professor McGonagall.

"Ey," she exclaimed, punching him slightly, but a glimmer of a smile played across her lips.

"Sorry." He tried to stifle his laughter, but failed miserably. "So, where did you go next?"

"To Xenophelius Lovegood. We were nearly captured there, in his house." She sighed. "Like always. Before we came here, we went to Godric's Hallow, because Harry …" She interrupted herself. "Well, _there_ we were nearly killed by Nagini, and I destroyed Harry's wand."

He felt a bit sick thinking about that gigantic snake. "But if his wand…?"

"The Elderwand repaired it," she explained and stopped suddenly. "Right over there."

Without warning she waved her wand through the air, and for a few seconds Draco caught a glimpse of a wintry forest, covered with snow and ice, and a little tent in the middle.

"Wow! – What was that?" he cried out.

"My memories. It's a tricky spell, but quite entertaining. Unfortunately, I can't keep it up for long, the images fade at once."

"Can you do that again?" he asked and marvelled at her elegant wand movement and its result. "Wow!" he whispered.

She smiled brightly over his reaction and his heart filled with warmth. Her eyes were shining like Gold Stones and the bright sunlight washed her chestnut-coloured hair in highlights of flax and champagne. On the spur of the moment he took her hand. "Thank you. This means so much to me."

"Next time you show me something from you past," she answered simply and squeezed his hand. "Let's take a walk."

He nodded, very conscious that her hand still lingered in his when they started walking. They were in their own little bubble of happiness. _The world could stop turning and neither of us would notice_ , he philosophised.

All of a sudden, however, he panicked. What would happen when this day was over? Maybe she would sleep on it, and then she would go back on her decision, probably kicking him out of her life in the process.

Nevertheless, he couldn't let her leave anymore. The past hours had only made him fall harder for her.

Together, they wandered around for a bit. It was getting dark by now, and he suggested having some dinner in a nice pub somewhere. To his surprise, she agreed at once, which made the warm, fuzzy feeling inside him grow like a hot-air balloon. She apparated them back to a muggle pub in London, and he realised that she hadn't let go of his hand the whole afternoon.

"What are you going to do tomorrow?" he asked innocently after their food had arrived.

"I really need to check on Ginny. And I need to catch up on some sleep," she said, tiredly rubbing her temples.

Trying not to look too disappointed, he smiled at her. "Me too. Thank Merlin we have holidays."

She chuckled softly.

"By the way, what would you think if I invited you to a little trip to Germany?" he suggested spontaneously. He wanted them to get to know each other better. He wanted to see her every single day from now on. He wanted to have adventures with her and explore foreign places together. He wanted this bubble of closeness to never burst.

"Are you serious?" she asked agape.

"I'm always serious. That's a Malfoy trait," he deadpanned.

She rolled her eyes. "Well, if that's the case … I'd be delighted." Her dazzling smile made his heart miss a beat.

"So that's fixed then. Thursday to Sunday? Next week?" he said in his business voice, so she knew he meant it. He had the feeling he needed to set their holiday plans in stone before she could run away again.

"Okay." She nodded instinctively. "And where to exactly?"

"Surprise, surprise," he responded mysteriously, smiling lopsidedly.

She narrowed her eyes. "Okay." He knew how much trust it must've cost her to say that simple word. That meant she trusted him. He wouldn't fail her.

The dinner was over far too quickly for his taste, and they apparated back to her flat. "Do you want to come in?" she offered automatically, but he shook his head. They both needed some space from each other. Reality sends its love.

"Sleep well, Hermione. If you need me, come to my flat. I changed the wards. You are welcome any time," he breathed and tried to resist the urge to touch her again or, even worse, _kiss_ her.

"Thanks," she whispered, awkwardly bushing some strands of hair out of her face.

"Will you be okay?"

"Yes," she answered quickly, maybe too quickly, but she gave him no time to address it. "Thank you for the day, and the answers, and the dinner, and …"

"You are very welcome."

They stared awkwardly at each other for a moment. Before he could say anything, she stood on tiptoe and placed a kiss on his cheek. "Good night, Draco."

With that she disappeared like a shadow through the door and left him standing there, dumbfounded.

* * *

The next morning Draco woke to the banging noise of someone knocking on his door but not his front door – his bedroom door!

"What the heck…?" he muttered and jumped up. It was way too early to be woken on a work-free day.

"Draco? Can I come in?" asked the voice of Blaise, and then the dark-skinned wizard stormed in without waiting for an answer.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" Draco hissed and slipped into Jeans and T-Shirt.

"I'm trying to warn you, mate. You should strengthen your wards," Blaise hissed back and waved something around.

Draco shot a dark look at his friend, who glared back at him. "Why?" He really didn't appreciate this 'warning'. Knowing Blaise, it could be something as stupid as a conspiracy theory the Quibbler had cooked up.

"I take it you haven't read the goddamn prophet yet."

"No! I was sleeping until you barged in like a freakin' maniac," Draco snapped grumpily, buttoning up his shirt.

"Read!" Blaise demanded and threw the paper at him.

Draco almost managed to catch it. "And what in particular?" he asked in a bored voice. Conspiracy theories the prophet had invented weren't much better than what the Quibbler printed.

"Oh, you'll see," Blaise said almost smugly, crossing his arms.

Draco sighed and focused on the front page.

 **Miss Hermione Granger: Soon-to-be Mrs. Malfoy?**

 _Oh, shit._ This couldn't be good. Underneath the article was a picture of them in the pub, eating and laughing, not noticing anybody else.

"Do you know what I mean now?" Blaise sighed resignedly.

"That's all rubbish," Draco snarled, quickly skimming the article. It was mainly about how 'devious Miss Granger' caught herself the next 'rich celebrity wizard' after the 'famous Quidditch player Viktor Krum', 'war hero Ronald Weasley', and 'The Chosen One'. She was portrayed like a greedy and power-hungry witch, who only played him to get the Malfoy name and the money.

Blaise chuckled. "You think I don't know that? But the whole country reads that and they might have a different opinion."

Draco only growled. She would freak out if she saw that, and Potter and Weasley probably as well.

"So, what's the plan?" Blaise asked.

"Why do you ask me? I have no bloody idea!" he snapped and hurled the paper across the room. "I'll talk to her."

"Maybe wait a bit. She might not even be awake yet. Let her calm down," Blaise suggested, summoning the paper and putting it into the bin.

Blaise was right. It was no use to freak out. So he took in a controlled breath and said, "She wanted to visit Potter anyway." Draco exhaled again slowly, outwardly calm, but actually he desperately wanted to hit something. His anger gained the upper hand over his attempts to calm down, and he added threateningly, "I'm gonna kill that Skeeter-bitch."

"I don't think you'll need to. Granger can handle that on her own," Blaise said confidently.

Draco glared at his friend. " _Why_ exactly are you still here?"

"Moral support, mate. Do you want some breakfast?" The lanky wizard grinned and strolled to the kitchen to empty Draco's fridge.

* * *

 **I wanted to say: I just love Blaise. He always makes the dialogue funny and light-hearted, but also a bit sarcastic. Well, at least** _ **my**_ **Blaise does. :P**

 **Btw: Reviews make me happy! :)**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who took the time to review. :) And thanks of course to my beta Cecelia Everhart.**

 **Any ideas for the revenge Hermione might take on Skeeter? I'm really uncreative there. If someone sends me a great idea I might make a Oneshot out of it. Soooo ... let your creativity flow. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

13\. Aftermath

Hermione slept very late the next morning. After a quick shower and some breakfast, she went straight to Harry's, not noticing the owls in front of her window.

"Hi Harry, hi Ginny, hi James," she shouted loudly, after stepping out of the floo.

"Hermione?" Harry called from somewhere upstairs. "Just come up to my office."

Swiftly, with a smile on her face, she climbed up the flight of stairs and entered the large and sunny office. Harry was sitting on his desk, piles of papers in front of him.

"Don't tell me you're working," she grinned.

He turned around. "I'm rather surprised you're not. Aren't there tons of papers you still have to read before the end of holiday?" he said mockingly, however, he seemed very anxious with a deep frown on his face. At once, a familiar pang of guilt hit her. She had forgotten all about Ginny – well, not exactly forgotten, but she had assumed her friend was on her way to recovery. However, Harry's worried frown told another story.

"Not today. Is something wrong with Ginny? Where is she?" she asked immediately.

"No, no, she's fine. Molly insisted she and the kids come over, so she could take care of them." Despite his reassuring words, he still watched her nervously, his green eyes following her every move.

"I hope you don't beat yourself up about the party," she said deliberate casually and sat down on one of the chairs. His behaviour really didn't reassure her. Something _was_ wrong.

He smiled back wanly. "Of course, I do. But Gin's better now, you don't need to worry. I think she's actually quite angry with herself. Yesterday, _all_ of the party guests stepped by to check on her. It made her furious. She said – and I quote – 'I'm not a feeble woman who needs to be mothered and protected by her brothers!' I think after Fleur, who gave her pregnancy tips to no end, she was ready to hex the next person entering the room."

A laugh escaped Hermione's lips. She could easily picture that scene in her head. "So, it was good then I didn't visit her yesterday," she said lightly, her worry subsiding.

"Yeah," Harry agreed half-heartedly. "How are you?" His troubled green eyes searched her gaze.

"Stop looking at me like that. I'm perfectly fine."

"You're sure? So, it doesn't bother you …?" Harry asked slowly, his frown deepening.

"What are you talking about? That you invited Draco? No." She couldn't help the smile that danced on her lips.

"Ehm, no. I mean … the prophet," Harry clarified tentatively.

"The prophet? Which prophet? The newspaper?" She frowned. "What's wrong with it?"

"So, you don't know?"

"Don't know what?" she enquired impatiently. That Harry was walking on eggshells really started to irritate her.

Slowly, he reached for something on his desk and handed it to her gingerly. "Don't be mad, okay?"

"Why would I be –" She stopped in mid-sentence, registering the big photo on the front page. With every word she read, her face turned paler. "I'm going to report her. Right now!" she hissed and jumped up. "How dare she … I won't let her ruin …" She felt so enraged that she wasn't able to form coherent sentences.

"Calm down, Hermione," Harry pleaded and grabbed her shoulders. "It's not that bad."

"Not that bad? Are you joking? Have you read this?" she yelled and waved the paper in his face. "She even mentioned you."

"It's complete rubbish and we both know that. Just ignore the owls for a few weeks. There were worse things out there after your divorce."

He was right, but she couldn't help the seething anger inside her. "I warned her not to write something about me. Arg." Exasperatedly, she threw her hands in the air.

"Hermione…"

"I know," she sighed and took a deep breath to control herself. After she had exhaled slowly and consciously, her rage had subsided a little. She tilted her head, throwing a hopeful glance in Harry's direction. "But you'd be the perfect alibi. You'll tell everyone I was with you while I venture out to kill her. Nobody questions the head auror."

A small laugh escaped him. "I'm sorry, but I can't let you do something you'll regret."

"What makes you think I'll regret it?" she countered and flopped down onto a chair. Only now, did she realise that Draco must have read this as well. Would he believe that stupid story? Would he think she was after the money?

"Because I know you," Harry answered softly. "Don't worry, Hermione. Nobody'll believe that, not even Draco."

Her head snapped around and she narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "How did you know I was thinking about him?" Harry normally wasn't the most sensitive person, better than Ron admittedly, but nowhere close to the prophetic faculties Ginny sometimes displayed.

He shrugged nonchalantly, but continued watching her sharply. "So, tell me. Was Ginny right? You … _like_ him… ?"

So, the idea _had_ come from Ginny. "Um…" Hermione said eloquently.

"And he likes you. Who would've guessed?" He smiled crookedly, as if this amused him rather than angered him.

Carefully, she searched his gaze. "Are you mad at me?" she still asked cautiously because she really didn't know what to do if he disapproved of Draco.

"No! Why would I be?"

"Conspiring with the arch-enemy?" she guessed.

"Would I invite my arch-enemy to my birthday party?" Harry deadpanned, accio-ing the newspaper out of her hand and throwing it in the bin.

"Mhm, maybe not." Hermione tried to smile, but it felt more like a grimace.

"See."

"It's just friendship. Nothing more," she clarified quickly, as if to reassure him. He, however, didn't seem to need reassurance.

"Yet." Harry grinned impishly. "I've watched him on the dance floor. Be brave, Mione."

She stared at him for as second, analysing his words down to the tiniest detail. It almost sounded as if he _wanted_ her to fall in love with him and establish a deeper relationship. "You honestly think that he and I are a good idea?" Hermione asked, shaking her head unbelievingly.

"I'm not exactly _enthusiastic_ , but … it's your choice, Mione. If _you_ think he's good enough for you, then he's good enough for me, too."

She swallowed. His approval somehow meant a lot to her. "Thanks, Harry. I … I think he might be." If she thought about yesterday, she couldn't help but smile, so that must be a good sign. She felt she could trust him, just like Harry, or Ginny, or Ron. It wasn't exactly gasoline on fire, like he had described it, more like melting the ice inside of her.

"Do you want to use Nival to owl him?" Harry interrupted her thoughts.

"No. He's probably busy. I'll visit him in the evening. Do you plan on going to the burrow as well?"

"Actually, I do. I just wanted to finish this. Do you want to join me?" he offered, starting to shuffle his papers around.

"I'd like that very much," Hermione answered. The small voice inside her told her that Draco probably _had_ believed the ludicrous article and that he would never want to see her again. Although she didn't quite believe it, she felt like putting this meeting of for a bit and enjoy the day while she still could.

While she waited for Harry to get ready, another part of her mind started to plot revenge on Skeeter. There was no way that poison penned woman would get away with that.

* * *

A couple of hours later, Hermione returned from a nice afternoon at the burrow. Differently from last time, Mrs. Weasley didn't believe the horrendous story about Hermione. She was especially adamant that such a nice girl like Hermione wouldn't start anything with an Ex-Death Eater like Malfoy. Ginny just rolled her eyes, but it made Hermione think.

War heroine and Ex-Death Eater – how likely was it to work?

Ron, of course, had been as blind as ever, completely agreeing with his mother. She wondered how he would take it. Ginny and Harry were fine with it, and Luna as well, but her other friends…? Would she offend them? What about Draco's friends – would they accept her?

Hell, why was she even thinking about that? They weren't even dating … or were they? Yesterday's outing could technically count as a date, the trip to Germany as well. Realising that, her heart suddenly missed a beat.

Holy shit, what was she doing? _Dating_? Travelling to Germany with a total stranger? Why had she agreed to such a ridiculous idea? She was such an _idiot_!

 _Maybe he'll cancel now, anyway_ , she tried to calm herself, but the feeling of desperation lingered. She had to talk with him right away, or she would go mad.

Without thinking, she grabbed some floo powder and threw it into the flames. Only seconds later, Draco's living room appeared in front of her. She realised that she hadn't been to his flat before. It was modern and spacious, just as you would expect it from a wealthy bachelor.

"Draco? Are you home?" she asked shakily. Maybe she should have owled him first instead of barging into his home. But before she could turn about and flee through the floo, a she heard a muffled voice.

"Hermione? I'll be right there."

A heartbeat later, Draco appeared in the living room, only in comfy pants and a T-shirt. She hadn't really seen him like that before, but she liked his relaxed side.

"Hi," she said shyly, which seemed a bit anticlimactic to the words she had prepared to say. But now she found herself unable to utter any of them.

He nervously stuffed his hands in his pockets, which made him look very un-Draco-like. "Hi. Is everything okay? I presume you read the paper…"

"So, you did too."

He took his hands out the pockets and crossed his arms instead. "Blaise was so kind to rub my nose in it – at eight in the morning."

"Ugh, sorry." She sighed. "I hope I didn't cause any inconveniences," she added politely, tip-toeing around the subject she really wanted to address but didn't dare to.

Draco, though, saw right through her. "Why are you really here?" he asked, a frown appearing on his face. His voice startled her and she shifted uncomfortably.

"I … I don't know. I wanted to see … if you'd changed your mind," she stuttered, carefully avoiding his eyes.

"You think I'd believe that rubbish about you being a money-grubber?" He laughed wryly. "Yeah, I completely bought that." He rolled his eyes. "Malfoy sounds so much better than Granger, anyway."

"Haha," she said dryly. "This is not funny."

"Really, Hermione? You think I'd fall for something so obvious? I'm not gullible. Besides, you only have to take a look at the author to know it's one quarter truth to three quarters rubbish."

"I didn't want to imply –"

"I know you didn't."

"So, we're good?" she asked, her heart beating rapidly like a jungle drum.

He returned her gaze cautiously. "You're not angry at me for throwing you to the wolves, metaphorically speaking?"

"Of course not! I should've picked a different place. It was just too close to Diagon Alley, I guess."

"Then we're good," he smiled warmly.

Relief flooded Hermione, and she suddenly noticed how handsome he looked in the fiery evening light that washed his hair with highlights of copper and honey and softened his features, making his face less pointy. She was about to say something when a loud jangling interrupted her. Hermione spun around, wand automatically in her hands, but it was just an owl knocking on Draco's window.

He rolled his eyes. "That's the fifteenth owl. Do people have nothing better to do?"

"Only the fifteenth?" She laughed. "There must be at least _fifty_ letters on my doorstep."

"Sorry," he said apologetically and pointed at a chair. "Take a seat."

"Thanks. And don't worry. It's not like I read them."

He grimaced at the idea of reading these probably quite impudent letters and turned to the stove. "Tea?"

She nodded and watched him while he put the kettle on. Despite what he had said earlier he looked a bit drawn, like something was nagging at him. "Tell me what's bothering you," she whispered finally.

His ice grey eyes focused on her at once.

"You're not the only perceptive person," she added dryly.

He shrugged and handed her a cup. "I had a fight with my parents."

"About me?" she asked without thinking.

He didn't answer, but the look on his face told her everything.

"Tell me!" she demanded.

He cleared his throat. "Well, mother doesn't give a damn about the article, father, however, …" His face twitched. "He said you won't see a single knut of the Malfoy money and should I dare to date you, he'd put down an airtight prenuptial contract. As if I care."

"He doesn't like me very much, does he?" Hermione said lightly.

"Nope."

"But he doesn't have to like me for us being friends. I'm sorry you argued because of me," she murmured softly and reached for his hand. "Just forget it. You can tell him, I don't need his money. I nearly bankrupted Viktor during our divorce." She smiled mischievously and winked.

She was pleased to see that Draco couldn't help laughing and found herself laughing with him.

"Thanks," he said after he had caught his breath.

"You're welcome."

He bit his lip. "That means you still want to go on this trip with me?"

"By all means," she answered automatically before she could stop herself. Hadn't she wanted to cancel it only minutes ago? But now that she was here with him, it felt so different, so right.

"Perfect. I've already arranged our lodgings."

She tilted her head. "Where'll we go?"

"Wait and see," He grinned and took a sip from his tea.

"Oh, come on," she groaned, already considering different locations in her head. Berlin would be too obvious, Munich too boring. Maybe something more 'cultural'? Or maybe a hiking trip in the Alps? –Although, on second thought, Draco didn't seem to be one for hiking. A beach holiday then?

"Okay, I give you a hint." He smiled smugly. "A German poet and playwright said – wait I tell you in German." He grinned even wider. "Das Beste an dieser Stadt ist der Zug nach München."

"What?" She frowned deep in thought. For now she wasn't able to make head or tail of it, even if she understood the German perfectly well. _‚The best thing about this city is the train to Munich.'_ Where could that be?

"That'll be our first stop."

Her eyes widened. "So, we'll visit more than one city?"

"Maybe." He looked so cheerful and at the same time mischievous – like a five year old who had managed to steal a cookie from the top shelf without anyone noticing – she had to laugh.

"You are impossible," she said.

"Impossibly good looking and charming, that's what you wanted to say, right?"

She just shook her head. She actually hadn't expected him to be such a joker. Arrogant, yes, charming, maybe, but funny? Inadvertently, her thoughts wandered back to an earlier conversation. He wasn't at all like she or any of the others had expected him to be – a lot more likeable for starters. It gave her hope that they would accept him in the end.

"By the way, I wanted to ask you something," she murmured hesitantly and took a large gulp of the fresh tea.

"Shoot," he said expectantly.

"I want to meet your friends. You know all of mine, but I know none of yours."  
"Well." He shifted uncomfortably.

"What? Are you ashamed of me?" she asked taken aback. Would they judge her – the _mudblood_?

His jaw tensed. "No, that's not it." She threw him a quizzical look and he added, "I … I haven't talked with them about you. Only Blaise knows because he works at the ministry."

" _And_? They have changed their views, haven't they?"she asked pointedly.

He shrugged. "I guess. But they still won't like you very much, bossy know-it-all, Golden Girl, and war heroine."

"I think I can handle that," she said firmly. From all the things they could throw at her, those were the least offending they could pick. She wasn't ashamed of her role in the war, and she knew she tended to rub her knowledge in other people's face.

"Well, then I invite them over for the week after our holiday," he gave in, and his solemn face told her that he wouldn't let his friends hurt her.

* * *

 **Can anyone guess where they'll be going? I gave you a hint. :D**

 **Next chapter: The holiday!**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Here we are with part one of the holiday. Thanks to my Beta _Cecelia Everhart_!**

 **Oh, and as answer to the review when Draco uses his last two questions - "SPOILER" - I'm afraid you'll have to endure many more chapters since it's nearly at the end. I also wanted to thank everyone who reviewed! Thanks to** MissMandy79 **for your suggestion (if I have time, I might start working on a one shot based on that); also thanks to** LightofEvolution **who was the only one to guess the place they're going (virtual chocolate for you!); and if I'm at it, big hugs to** purplehedgehog13, Sherlock Harry Winchester **(best penname ever!)** , **and** fantasticfan15 ( **LOVED your review, I hope your (in-)sanity survived)!**

 **Before we move on to the story – sorry for the sheer endless author's note – I included some background information and translations for the German at the end of the story (see brackets [...]). It's not to lecture you, just to give a bit of context and help you understand the German.**

 **So, enjoy the sunny holiday in Germany!**

* * *

14\. Fool For You

About a week later, Hermione was waiting impatiently for Draco to pick her up. She had everything packed for their trip and was incredibly nervous. She was pretty sure where they would go, but he hadn't confirmed anything.

Crookshanks was cared for; she had given him to Ginny, who still loved cats. Harry wasn't too happy about it, but, as James absolutely loved the furry cat, he was outvoted.

Finally, there was a knock, and she opened the door in seconds.

"Ready?" Draco looked as handsome as ever, and the radiant smile he gave her was like sunshine on her skin.

"Always," she smiled back. "Let's go."

"Okay, our Portkey will leave in five minutes," he said and entered her living room. "It'll bring us directly to our hotel."

She was so nervous her fingers trembled when they touched the portkey. A couple of minutes later, she found herself being guided to her room by a German hotel employee.

"Das ist Ihr Zimmer, Frau Granger." He handed her the key card, then turned to Draco. "Ihr Zimmer ist direkt nebenan, Herr Malfoy."[1]

"Danke," Draco said nonchalantly.[2]

"Ich wünsche Ihnen einen angenehmen Aufenthalt."[3]

Hermione smiled at the young man and then opened her door. She still wasn't quite sure which city they were in. But she could hardly ask any of the employees, couldn't she? At once, she made her way to the window. It wasn't a very prominent skyline; it appeared to be more part of the old town.

"And?" Draco asked behind her.

"It looks amazing. If there weren't any cars, we could be right back in the 15th century."

"I knew you'd like it. Come on, let's do some sightseeing." He took her hand and pulled her downstairs.

They visited some touristic places, like the Rathaus with the Goldener Saal[4], the Perlachturm, the Fuggerei[5], various churches and so on. Already the first sight they had visited had confirmed her suspicions that they were in _Augsburg_. Draco knew a bit about the wizarding history of the city and told her about it. Augsburg impressed her so much she felt as if she constantly walked around with an open mouth and an expression of wonder on her face. She loved to listen to Draco's explanations, loved to see how his eyes lightened up when he remembered a particular interesting part of Augsburg's history, loved how he proudly showed off his German by talking to natives. He made her feel special, as if the primary purpose of the trip was to make her happy.

In the evening, she was dead tired and relieved to return to the hotel to have dinner. Their day had gone better than she had expected. She had been really worried that there would be some awkwardness between them, that he would somehow expect more of her or see this as a trip with a lover instead of a friend. But it had been nothing like that. However, it hadn't escaped Hermione's notice that he found subtle ways of touching her.

"Did you enjoy the day?" he asked softly after they had finished their menu.

"Very much. But it was exhausting."

The familiar mischievous grin danced on his lips. "That's why we'll have a relaxed day tomorrow at a lake."

"Lake? Which one?" she asked immediately, cocking her head.

His eyes twinkled with cheekiness. "Surprise."

She rolled her eyes but turned sincere a second later. "I wanted to thank you for this. I haven't had this much fun since … well, since years, I guess."

At once, his grin vanished. "You're welcome, Hermione," he answered seriously with a gaze so intense she had to avert her eyes because it sent goose bumps all over her body. The way he could manipulate her body like that made her feel so vulnerable, so defenceless and _exposed_ , and she didn't like that.

"We should go now," she exclaimed quickly and jumped up.

"Hey, Hermione wait," he called after her, but he didn't catch up with her until she had reached her room. "Hermione, what's wrong?" he asked, a worried frown darkening his face.

"Nothing," she protested, trying to wave his concerns away, but he didn't look convinced. "It's just the day and … I don't know. I need to sleep! See you tomorrow at nine," she added hurriedly and slipped through the door before he could stop her. The desire to run had been overpowering.

Now she took a deep, calming breath and tried to find reassurance in the closed door behind her back, but she could still feel her heart racing. The light in her room was dim and made it look smaller and lonelier than it actually was.

Now that she finally was away from him – and all alone again – she wanted nothing more than to turn around and run back to him.

She knew she was falling head over heels for him. There was nothing she could do. If she hadn't interrupted the conversation before, she was sure she would have said something inappropriate and stupid – which might have led to the topic she wanted to avoid under all circumstances. She was comfortable with the friendship they had, and, even if Draco wanted more, she wasn't sure it was wise to go there.

Friendship was safe. Safe was good.

It wouldn't end well, anyway. Former Death Eater and goody-two-shoes – that simply wouldn't work out. She just had to be more careful and not endanger their friendship. She would pull herself together tomorrow and act like nothing had happened.

* * *

The next morning, Hermione tried to act nonchalantly during breakfast, but she could still feel Draco's eyes lingering on her, following her every move. She would find herself sinking in his eyes, which colour varied depending on his mood – so many shades of silver, like a pebble beach. Today, it was the horizon grey again.

She really shouldn't do that. Neither should she hang on his lips when he spoke, realising that she enjoyed his voice more than she should. She shouldn't notice that he only drank Early Grey, that he played with the hem of his robes, when he was nervous, that he was secretly crazy for chocolate, or that he bit his lower lip, if he was deep in thought. But she did and she hated herself for it.

She had tried to distract him and engage him in a conversation about the philosopher's stone and how it could have been used in modern potion making, but that didn't work too long. When they took their bags and readied themselves for the Portkey, she knew Draco couldn't be stalled any longer. He hadn't brought up the topic of last night yet, but she could see it on the tip of his tongue, just waiting for the right moment.

The Portkey took them to a deep blue, glittering lake, the Alps – as perfect as in a painting – in the background. "Wow. Lake Constance," she marvelled. Southern Germany again – how unexpected. Lucky for them, the weather was sunny and hot, and she already yearned for the cool water of the lake to caress her body. The scenery, too, was fantastic, as picturesque as in a romance novel.

"Are you surprised?" Draco grinned like a small boy.

She nodded. "Oh yes. Where are we?"

"Not far from Konstanz, actually. It's an inside tip. Let's check out the water, what do you say?" he asked lightly.

She had anticipated that and was wearing her bikini underneath. They searched for a shady little spot and spread a blanket. Not many people were around, one family and two other couples, so it was rather quiet. She watched him slipping out of his Jeans and T-shirt; his skin was still quite pale, but that would probably never change, and, Merlin, the Quidditch training seemed to have paid off.

Suddenly, she felt very self-conscious and insecure of her body. Nonetheless, she removed her shirt and hot pants and held her chin up high, daring him to make snide remarks about her scars or anything else. But he just smiled and offered her his hand.

"Do you need a sun protection spell, before we go?" he asked.

She hadn't thought about that. Although she was an accomplished witch and loved magic, some things she just did the muggle way. "Er, no. I brought sun cream."

"Sun what?"

She blushed. "Sun cream. It's muggle." She pulled the bottle out of her bag. "See. I'll use it later."

He didn't seem appalled at all, rather like someone who tried to figure out a difficult puzzle. "Interesting. What does the number mean?" he asked, while they strolled down to the beach in their flip flops.

"It's the protection level. 30 is a bit higher than average. I have no need of a sunburn," she explained and put a toe in the water. It was still quite cool, but perfect for a hot day like this.

"Scared of water, Granger?" he teased, splashing some water in her direction. She shrieked accidentally and retaliated with running directly into the water, soaking him in the process. Together they swum around for about half an hour, then they went back to their blanket to dry.

"Your hair looks … interesting," he remarked. The water had straightened her curls a bit, but as soon as they were dry, she would look like her eleven-year-old self with incredibly bushy hair and no wonder witch products in sight.

"Arg," she groaned and tried to untangle it a bit, which only made it worse. "Please ignore the mess on my head."

He laughed heartily. "Deal." He stretched lazily and turned himself so he was lying on his back. "Which books did you bring?"

Oh, he knew her so well. "Some modern German playwrights, like Brecht[6] and Dürrenmatt[7], Hogwarts: A History – revised, and another one I have to read for work."

"Wow. Undetectable Extension Charm?"

She blushed crimson. "It's _useful_!"

"Lend me one?"

"Sure." She handed him _Der gute Mensch von Sezuan_.[8] A couple of minutes passed, but then he closed the book abruptly and asked. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No," she answered mono-syllabically.

"But you are acting so… distant. What is it?"

"I really don't want to talk about it." He was so close she felt his warmth and smelled the sun on his skin. The Sun! "Shite, we forgot the suncream," she exclaimed. Quickly, she pulled it out of her bag and spread the milky cream over her arms, legs, and face. "Could you do my back?" she asked insecurely.

"Me?"

"Do you see another person standing around?" she asked dryly.

"But I've never done that!" he protested.

"It's only sun cream, Draco," she said, rolling her eyes.

He agreed hesitantly, "Okay." Seconds later, she felt his warm hands with the cooler cream on her back, massaging her slightly. It felt incredibly good. She wished he would never stop.

"Thanks," she mumbled shakily. "Should I help you?"

"Yes," he answered in a husky voice. The creaming seemed to have the same effect on him as on her.

Carefully, she put some sun cream on her palms and worked her fingers over his tense back. "Mhm," he moaned nearly inaudible. This sound did strange things to her, made her all soft inside.

Finally, they lay side by side, enjoying the sun. Thank Merlin, he had given up questioning her. A light breeze was easing the heat, and she felt herself drifting off.

* * *

Hermione woke slowly. Her head was resting on something warm and soft, but slightly moving. It felt very much alive. Abruptly, she opened her eyes and realised that her head lay on Draco's chest, one of his arms curled around her. She peeked through her lashes at his face, but he seemed sound asleep.

She had felt so safe, even in her dreams. What was he doing to her?

However, she didn't move and simply enjoyed the feeling of being held. Unfortunately, Draco woke not long after, stirring slightly, then his lashes fluttered open. Automatically, she put some distance between them and sat up. For some unknown reason she felt as if he had caught her doing something naughty.

"Hermione?" he asked, looking at her strangely.

"I …" she whispered, feeling the unnatural desire to curl back up next to him, to just feel his body next to hers, which was the last thing she _should_ do. "I'm going for a walk." Quickly, she slipped into her pants and grabbed her wand. "Just stay here."

He didn't say anything nor did he stand up and follow her. She desperately needed to clear her head. The feelings inside her scared her to death. She wanted nothing but to run away, even though she knew only too well that there was no escape.

This whole trip had sent her into an emotional turmoil.

* * *

 **[1]** Translations: This is your room, Miss Granger. – Your's is the adjacent room, Mr. Malfoy.

 **[2]** Translation: Thanks.

 **[3]** Translation: I wish you a pleasant stay.

 **[4]** Town hall with the Golden Hall (famous for its paintings, murals, and golden wall decorations)

 **[5]** A small district in the old town, originally built by the rich Fugger family for needy citizens (between 1514 and 1523). The houses are still in use today.

 **[6]** Bertolt Brecht (born 1898 in Augsburg; died 1956 in East Berlin)

 **[7]** Friedrich Dürrenmatt (actually a swiss author; lived 1921 – 1990)

 **[8]** _The Good Person of Szechwan_ , a play by Bertolt Brecht, written between 1938-1941 during his exile in Sweden and the U.S. In a nutshell, it's about the dilemma that you can't be good in a world that abuses your goodness (be good and possibly die in the end or behave selfishly and strive).


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Tada, holiday part two! I have to admit that I'm not really happy with this chapter. It sounds so stiff and my English is really awkward sometimes. But thanks to** ** _Cecelia Everhart_** **who tried to fix my mistakes as best as she could :) And thank you all for your reviews!**

 **I hope you'll still enjoy this capter :)**

* * *

15\. Revelations

After Hermione had returned from her 'walk', she seemed even more detached than before. It was clear as day that something was bothering her, but she had blocked all of Draco's attempts to talk about it. He couldn't help thinking that he had done something wrong. This trip was supposed to bring them closer together, but thus far it had only achieved the opposite.

He watched her silently at dinner. She was constantly avoiding his eyes, her fingers were clenched, and every now and then she would frown and bite her lip. She behaved as if he had somehow hurt her, as if his presence was unbearable to her. He couldn't take it any longer. The first day in Augsburg had seemed so perfect and now…

"I'm not hungry," he whispered, having not even half finished his plate. "Head aches."

"Oh." She looked up and frowned. "Do you need something?"

"No. I'll just sleep," he answered briefly. "See you at breakfast." Then he simply couldn't endure her coldness anymore, jumped up, and almost run to his room. He had been so foolish to think she would fall for him.

* * *

They spent the next day in Dresden, visiting the treasures of this city, like the opera and the Grünes Gewölbe[1]. They talked and even laughed, but to Draco it seemed forced, unreal. He was happy when the day was over and they travelled to their last location: Rügen[2].

The next morning greeted them with an azure blue sky and a slightly salty breeze. The day promised to be as hot as the last; therefore, Draco decided to laze about in the sun after they had visited some of the main attractions. Hermione, on the other hand, wanted to 'explore', but he knew it was just an excuse to get away from him. To her, his presence seemed more unbearable – up to revolting even – with every passing minute.

It hurt him, and she didn't even realise it. It hurt him like she would use an Unforgivable on him, so unthinking and so incredibly cold. He had never thought her capable of cruelty, but the way she flinched back from his touch or looked at him, a mask of firm indifference on her face – he couldn't describe it any other way than cruel.

He was so lost in his thoughts it took him a while to realise that she had been gone for an hour and had left him waiting. But what else could he do? There was no point in looking for her. She didn't want his company, so he waited …

… and waited …

… and waited until it was nearly time for their reservation at the restaurant.

 _Maybe she's already gone there_ , he thought and, grudgingly, walked to the pub. His last hope that Hermione would await him and jump up and smile at him like before burst like a bubble – she wasn't there. He didn't think she would miss their reservation on purpose.

 _Maybe she's just a little late_ , he tried to calm himself and ordered a cool German beer. It didn't work, however; his thoughts were still running wild. Maybe he should have left her a message? Maybe he should be looking for her? What if something had happened? What if she had taken another Portkey without him?

Another long hour passed with him staring either angrily at his beer or worriedly towards the beach. In the end, the worry won. Quickly, he paid and went back to the place they had separated. "Hermione!" he called, but nobody answered. The sun was already setting and people were leaving the beaches and returning to their homes. But Draco had no eyes for the beautiful sunset; his mind was consumed with fear and concern.

Clandestinely, he pulled his wand out and whispered, " _Point me_."

The direction it gave was very vague, so he followed a path along the beach, hoping to find her on the way. It looked like the path she had taken, but he couldn't be sure. Half an hour later or so, the night had become pitch-black; the sea seemed to be made out of liquid ink and the beaches of dark sand. He needed to lighten his wand to even find a way. It glowed like a firefly, guiding his way, but its light wasn't enough to see more than a metre of the path. He could easily miss her if she was sitting on one of the dunes.

"Hermione!" he called her again – for what he felt to be the hundredth time. And finally someone answered.

"Draco!" a voice below him cried out.

Hermione! It sounded like she was down on the beach, but he couldn't see her from above. The dunes were quite high. He needed more light! Instinctively, he checked his surroundings, but no muggle was near.

" _Lumos solem_!" he bellowed, and bright sunlight streamed from his wand. "Hermione!"

She really was curled up down in the sand. It looked like she had fallen down the steep coastal dune. "Are you hurt?" he yelled, carefully climbing down to her. The relief of having found her was replaced by fear and guilt. He should have been looking for her sooner! But no – he had wallowed in his self pity and had left her out here for hours, possibly badly hurt.

Her cheeks were streaked with tears, but she wiped them away furiously. "I've lost my bloody wand, and it was already dark, and I twisted my ankle," she explained in a hard voice, trying hard not to sob.

So she wasn't hurt badly, he concluded and watched her trying to regain her composure but failing miserably. Again, she seemed determined to not let him in, not let him see her vulnerable.

" _Accio_ Hermione's wand," he said, and a thin object flew right into his hands. "Here. Thank Merlin, I was so worried."

"It was stupid. I'm sorry." She glanced at him and a sob broke out of her chest. "I'm such a failure! I can't even walk on my own without having an accident." She sobbed uncontrollably now, obviously furious with herself.

"No, Hermione. Stop saying that!" he hissed and kneeled down in front of her. "Which ankle? Let me help you."

"No!" she said fiercely and pushed him away. "E-e-episkey."

He doubted her sobbed spell had worked. "Hermione, I can do this."

"No, I can – I can h-handle that," she whimpered, suppressing her sobs.

In this moment, he simply had enough. He had enough of her pushing him away, trying to prove how independent she was, enough of her hurting him.

"Well, then. You find your way back alone," he said harshly and stood up.

"Draco!" she yelled after him, but he didn't care. He didn't turn back.

"In the name of Merlin, you can't leave me here."

He still didn't turn, even as he heard her groaning in pain. She probably tried to follow him.

"Darn it," she cursed. "Draco, please. I'm sorry I snapped at you. Please."

At once, he stopped in his tracks and turned around. She was limping over the sand to reach him, nearly falling down after every step.

"Will you let me help you?" he asked quietly.

She nodded. " _Please_. My ankle's killing me." She was very pale, and her tears still glimmered in the light of his wand. She looked so vulnerable he just couldn't leave her there.

"Okay," he agreed although he was still feeling angry and hurt. But she had apologised, and that seemed all it took for him to forgive her.

Groaning, she fell down on the sand, and he kneeled down next to her. When he reached for her ankle, she didn't flinch. " _Episkey_." In mere seconds, her ankle was as good as new.

"Thank you," she whispered, and her voice was sincere.

He nodded and flopped down next to her. "Will you tell me now what got your wand in a twist?" He cast a quick glance at her, but she stared out to the sea. Hesitantly, he added, "What did I do?"

Her head snapped around, her gaze scrutinising him. He hoped she hadn't heard the shaking in his voice. "You didn't do anything!" She closed her eyes for a second and said so lowly he almost didn't hear it, "It's _me_. I'm foolish and … and I'm sorry. I shouldn't've run off."

"You shouldn't have. But why did you?"

She was quiet for a very long time. "I'm freaking scared, okay?" she mumbled after half an eternity.

His heart stopped. "Of me?"

"No, you idiot. I didn't want to push you away, I didn't want to hurt you. I wasn't even aware that I did hurt you until just now. I'm selfish and scared, that's it." She pulled her knees close and wrapped her arms around them as if to protect herself.

"What's scaring you then?" he asked carefully. If it wasn't him, what else could it be?

She silently shook her head.

"How can I help you if you don't answer me?"

"I don't want your help," she snapped instantly. "Sorry. I …" She was breathing heavily as if uttering these words required an inhuman amount of strength. "Draco ... I'm a mess. I'm not relationship material. Just look for someone else and let us stay friends."

A light dawned on him. "That's scaring you, isn't it?"

"Draco …"

"I told you I wouldn't push you."

Finally, she turned to look at him. Her amber eyes were almost black in the darkness. "That's not what's scaring me. It's scaring me that I want to touch you, and be with you, and make you laugh, that it feels so real, so perfect, too good to be true. My feelings are scaring me, and I want to run from them," she revealed and inhaled sharply. "See! I didn't want to tell you, and then you look at me like that, and I feel so safe as if I could tell you everything."

"You _can_ tell me everything," he protested hoarsely. That was the first time she had told him about her feelings, and it made his heart go crazy.

"Draco, I'll push you away over and _over_ again. I'm going to hurt you, and then you'll hate me. I can't let that happen."

He smiled crookedly at her. He knew now how she felt, and he wouldn't let her find excuses. "Hush. I could never hate you. It's okay to be scared."

"But it simply won't work. It can't work," she said frantically, hugging herself more fiercely.

He swallowed, all happiness vanishing when he realised the truth. "I know. I'm not good enough for you, Hermione. But let me try, okay?" he nearly begged.

"Are you kidding me? I'm the broken goods here. If you'd know all –" Quickly, she interrupted herself. "I can't."

"You don't trust me, is that it?"

"No. No, Draco. I do trust you, but there are things I can't tell you. Please, I'm so scared. Stop doing this to me!" she pleaded.

Gently, he took her hand. "I can't. You have no idea how … what _you_ do to _me_. I'm scared, too." She made him relaxed, made him lose control, made him forget all the things he learned about how a Malfoy should behave.

"People won't accept us. Your friends … my friends," she protested, but her voice was weak, dejected.

He wanted to say he didn't care, but he did. Her friends were important to her. Suddenly, he was scared she had really given up. She put her friends above all else, and if they rejected him for the mistakes he did in his past, for the Mark that was carved into his skin, she might too.

"If I could cut this …" He hesitated, unable to utter the condemning words, and finally settled on, "… _thing_ from my skin, I would, believe me. It was all I've ever wanted, to be a Death Eater, and when I got what I thought I wanted I realised …" He swallowed hard. "I realised I didn't want it at all. It'll never go away. Don't think I haven't tried."

Her reaction wasn't at all what he had pictured. Instead of flinching away, she moved closer. "The Mark doesn't appal me. It's part of your past." She stretched out her left arm and pointed her wand at it, muttering, " _Lumos_." In the faint light of the wand, he could barely read the word carved into her skin. _Mudblood_. It made him shiver all over. "We all have our marks, Draco," she added almost softly.

"Why didn't you have it removed? There must be spells or potions…"

She nodded gently. "There are, but I refused. It belongs to me, Draco, just as this belongs to you." With her right hand she covered his left forearm, touching the Dark Mark deliberately. He inhaled sharply, but she didn't even bat an eyelid.

There it was again – skin on skin, gasoline on fire. Very slowly he turned his head, noticing every detail, from her dark, topaz eyes to her shadowy hair – almost as black as the night sky but with highlights of chestnut and bronze – to the deliciousness of her lips. Suddenly, it overcame him how badly he wanted to kiss her.

But he shouldn't. He really shouldn't. It was too early.

He needed all his willpower to look back to the sea. "Thanks," he whispered brokenly.

She put down her head on his shoulders. "Please, just stay with me even when I'm foolish, and mean, and scared, and push you away."

"I will," he promised thickly, meaning every word of it.

"And I promise the same," she breathed softly and leaned against him – not much, her skin barely touched his, but enough to make his skin tingle, to make him want to draw her even closer and erase all the negative space between them. But instead he just listened to the ocean that slowly breathed in and out, sounding like a softly snoring animal.

"I hope it won't always need a broken ankle for you to open up to me," he joked after a while.

She chuckled softly. "Do you forgive me, Draco?"

"Always," he muttered without thinking.

He felt her looking at him, but didn't turn his head or open his eyes. "We've missed our Portkey," she stated.

"We'll get a new one," he mumbled tiredly. The sleep deprivation from the night before, this day, and the worry had exhausted him.

"Fair enough." Suddenly, there was a cosy blanket wrapped around him. He peeked through his lashes and watched her placing protective spells around them. "Now we're safe."

He smiled fondly. "Thank you. No tent?"

"I knew I forgot something," she teased him and conjured another blanket and two pillows. Then she snuggled under the covers, lying really close. Instinctively, he wrapped his arm around her.

"Good?" he asked sleepily.

"Mhm," she agreed and caressed his back of the hand with her fingertips. "Good night, Draco."

* * *

 **I really recomment visiting the places I listed should you ever be in Germany!**

* * *

[1] The 'Green Vault' forms part of the Royal Palace of Dresden and is a museum full of jewellery and precious objects made out of gold, amber, ivory, gemstones, bronze etc. It was destroyed in WWII but has been restored since then.

[2] Germany's largest island, located in the Baltic Sea, famous for its chalk cliffs


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: I know this is early, but I was just in the mood to post another chapter. I hope the end will satisfy your need for Dramione moments ;) Tell me what you think!**

 **And so many thanks to _Cecelia Everhart_ for beta-ing and to everyone who reviewed! :***

* * *

16\. The Darkness Inside

The next morning, Hermione woke with a start because she felt a heavy weight on her hip that didn't used to be there. For half a second she actually thought she might be back with Viktor, but then she realised it was only Draco.

He woke at once, feeling her terror.

"Hermione, 's everything okay?" he mumbled, still half asleep.

"Yes, don't worry. Go back to sleep." She didn't have to say that twice; before she had finished her sentence, he had drifted off.

She knew she couldn't go back to sleep. Her heart was still pumping adrenaline through her body. Very carefully, she got up and smiled when she saw that Draco instinctively groped for her. The first sun rays pushed their way over the horizon, chasing the night away and painting the sky in a colour that wasn't quite the night's blue anymore but not the violet of a blooming morning either.

She wrote Draco a quick note and headed for the town to get some breakfast and a new Portkey. She returned about an hour later with coffee and pretzels. Draco was still sleeping, but as soon as she sat down beside him, he woke.

"Morning, sleepyhead," she smiled and handed him the coffee.

He stared at the coffee, the pretzels, and then back to her. "You walked all the way to town to get us some breakfast?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes. I could have apparated, but it felt good. It helped to clear my head."

Immediately, he looked worried. "About what?"

Viktor. But she wouldn't tell him that. "If you want to know if I regret the words from yesterday night – I don't."

"Good," he sighed and grabbed a pretzel. "What woke you up so early?"

"Dunno," she mumbled and bit in her own pretzel. "I'm an early riser."

He nodded, but, all of a sudden, his whole posture tensed. "Is that an owl?"

She looked up and watched a small shadow over the sea grow bigger and bigger. "Oh, yes. That's the Portkey," she explained and stepped out of the protective circle.

"How did you manage that?"

"It has to be good for something to be Junior Assistant in MLE, doesn't it?" she grinned and took the little package and the note from the owl. "Here, it says the Portkey will leave when we both touch it. We can finish our breakfast."

They ate in silence and watched the sun rise over the sea. Hermione enjoyed the relaxed atmosphere between them. Yesterday really had changed everything. She knew now she didn't need to be scared anymore. Being with Draco was easy if she didn't overthink everything, just as Ginny had told her before she had left.

Gasping, she remembered her friends were waiting for her. "Shite. Harry'll be sick with worry. I told him I'd be back yesterday." Hastily, she emptied her coffee and put the last pretzels into her bag.

"He's very protective of you," Draco mused, scrutinising her.

"Well, I've saved his life often enough, he's just returning the favour. Besides, he's still my best friend," she answered absent-mindedly and vanished the blanket from underneath him. Quickly, Draco jumped to his feet and helped her clean the beach.

"I thought that'd be me," he sulked in jest.

At once, her expression turned serious. What were they exactly? Not quite dating but more than friends. But, hell, who needed a definition? She should stop worrying about that.

"A knut for your thoughts," he interrupted her musing.

She blushed slightly and grabbed her bag. "It's nothing," she said defensively.

"Didn't we agree to be honest with each other?"

"Really, it's nothing," she insisted and took a last look around. "Ready to leave?"

He sighed. "It's nice here. I wish we could stay."

"I know," she whispered, handing him his holdall. They were ready to say goodbye to Germany.

"Ready?" she asked again, presenting him with the quill that was the Portkey.

"Ready when you are," he answered and put his finger on it.

* * *

She had been right. When she returned to her flat, Harry was already waiting for her. She calmed him down, explaining that they had simply missed the earlier Portkey and had decided to stay the night. When she had gotten finally rid of him, she unpacked her stuff and cleaned her apartment. She hated holidays. There was nothing left for her to do, and she didn't want to floo to Draco like a clingy girlfriend, but neither Ginny nor Ron were an option. The former was too attentive, the latter had the emotional range of a teaspoon.

Finally, she settled on the book she had to finish for work and sat outside in the sun. In the evening, a grey owl arrived. Draco's.

Excited she opened the letter.

 _Dear Hermione,_

 _I hope you are okay. I have been missing you terribly the whole day. Let's meet for Lunch tomorrow?!_

 _I wanted to let you know that I have arranged a meeting with my friends in the Leaky Cauldron on Thursday night. Let me know if that works for you._

 _Furthermore, my mother has requested that we visit Malfoy Manor again. Her excuse is that you have not seen the gardens yet, but I think she just wants to meddle and secure herself a daughter-in-law. Does the weekend suit you?_

 _Please answer ASAP._

 _Yours,_

 _Draco_

 _PS: It's your birthday next week. Anything planned yet?_

She couldn't help but notice how personal this letter was compared to the previous ones but still formal how he was taught to write. Promptly, she took out her quill and answered:

 _Dear Draco,_

 _It's hard to admit, but this day was very lonely without you. I can come by half past 12 tomorrow._

 _Perfect. Thursday is just fine. You'll have to prep me for it._

 _You can tell your mother that I'd love to see her again. She was very kind. Just fix a date, anything will work for me._

 _Thank you._

 _See you tomorrow,_

 _Hermione_

 _PS: How did you find out? No, just something casual with my friends, probably at the Burrow._

She attached the letter to the owl's leg and sent it on its way.

As soon as it was dark, she went to bed. She felt bone tired, but sleep wouldn't come. After only one night she had become used to someone else sleeping next to her. She tossed and turned and finally got up. Her flat was so cold and lonely, so forlorn. It felt like the darkness was closing in on her, like a predator on its prey.

She turned the TV on, but it didn't help. She craved someone there beside her, a solid presence, a voice in the dark. Draco.

She couldn't believe it, but she actually missed him.

* * *

She woke late the next morning, having been up till the wee hours of the morning. Impatiently, she watched the seconds tick by and flood to Draco's place ten minutes early because she couldn't stand her empty apartment anymore.

"Hermione, is that you?" he called from somewhere.

"Yes. Sorry, I'm early," she answered and looked around. Nothing seemed to have changed since her last visit.

"I'm right there; just make yourself at home."

"Fair enough." She went straight to his bookshelf and started skimming the titles.

"Sorry," he said a second later, having entered unnoticed. He was wearing a light caramel shirt, and she realised how suntanned he had become.

She just shook her head. "No worries. Where do we go?"

"We could stay in and order something," he suggested.

"We could," she grinned. She'd really rather stay in and have a relaxed evening than venture out and risk meeting Skeeter anywhere.

Quickly, they ordered some Thai food and made themselves comfortable on Draco's couch.

"You were lonely yesterday?" he started the conversation.

She shrugged. "Well, I was so used to being around you …"

"Why didn't you come?"

"That would seem desperate," she answered briefly. "Anyway, what did you tell your friends?"

Luckily, he went for it. "Oh, just that I wanted to hang out and that they could bring their girl-/boyfriends."

She frowned at him. "So, you didn't tell them I was coming."

He didn't meet her eyes. "Not exactly."

"Draco!" she huffed, giving him a stern look.

"I didn't know what to say!" he explained, tugging at the hem of his shirt, obviously a bit embarrassed he had withheld that information from the others. She knew he was scared of their reactions, and she understood that. She did the same, didn't she? She hadn't even told Harry or Ginny that she planned on bringing Draco to her birthday party.

"Well, who did you invite?"

He looked cautiously at her, unsure if he was forgiven, but her smile waved his concerns away. "Blaise, Pansy, Tracey, and Theo, who'll bring Daphne along," he finally listed.

She swallowed. So many. Maybe this was a bad idea. "Are they all in relationships?"

"Um, Theo's with Daphne, and Pansy with Cormac McLaggen –"

"What?" she interrupted him. "Cormac _'I'm-so-full-of-myself'_ McLaggen?"

His head snapped up. "You know him?"

She blushed. "Vaguely. We went to that stupid Slugclub Party together because Ron was dating Lavender."

"Tell me more," he demanded, a wicked twinkling in his eyes.

"No, definitely not. And Blaise?"

Draco shrugged. "Well, Blaise isn't exactly the type for stable, monogamous relationships."

"So he isn't bringing anyone," Hermione concluded. At least, it weren't all couples. That would have been awkward.

Draco made a vague hand movement. "Yeah. He had a thing with Tracey, but that's over …"

"And you invited the both of them? That's gonna be fun," she deadpanned.

He stiffened "Oh. I didn't think …"he breathed. "Damn."

She shook her head. _Boys_! How could anyone be this oblivious?

"But she'll be nice to you, an ally against the pure-blood snobs. She dated Ernie McMillan for a while," Draco added hastily.

"Very reassuring," Hermione mumbled sarcastically. "How did Pansy and Cormac end up together?"

"Dunno. Never really asked. I think they met at some 'very important' event as Cormac's family is very influential, not pure-blood, though."

" _And_ he's a Gryffindor," Hermione added, raising her eyebrows.

"They are both vain. I think they deserve each other," Draco chuckled. "Pansy and I are on friendly terms, but after our break-up … well, she can be mean, selfish, and vicious."

Hermione could vividly picture that. She had never really got along with Pansy since – apart from being Slytherin – she had put her priorities in all the wrong places – from Hermione's point of view at least. Hermione didn't care for perfect nails or styled hair, for rich boyfriends or a 'perfect' life. "Why did you invite her then?" she asked.

"Because I think she'll understand. Her family put a lot of pressure on her during the war, and she liked to be in control and to control others. That didn't play out in her favour in the end. She didn't return for her NEWTS because she was always supposed to marry a rich pure-blood such as myself, and it took her some time to come to terms with the new world and with the mistakes she had made. But she did eventually. She ignored her family's wishes and started working in the fashion world as a designer. I think she still feels superior to others, but that's just who she is. She tried dating some pure-bloods, but it never worked longer than half a year. Then she met Cormac about a year ago and they hit it off." His eyes focused on her. "So I hope she'll understand my decisions about you."

Hermione nodded, pondering about what he had just said. From his point of view it definitely made sense. She wasn't sure, however, that Pansy would see it the same way. "What about Tracey and Nott?" she asked, turning her attention to the two Slytherins she knew almost nothing about.

"Tracey … I think she was always in the background, never taking any action in the war for either side. Blaise knows her better than I do, but I think she was never a fan of that whole pure-blood-Slytherin-thing. She needs some time to open up, but then she's very loyal. I thought she'd be good for Blaise, but of course he screwed it up. Maybe I shouldn't have invited her, I just thought she'd be a useful ally," he explained slowly. "Theo …" He shrugged. "His whole family consisted of Death Eaters, and after the war he was all alone. He came back for the NEWTS, but he barely passed his classes although he's very bright. He couldn't handle the war, the change, everything he had lost. He became quite bitter and sombre. Daphne changed him, but I'm afraid he'll still resent you for destroying his life. Not that he loved his father or being a Death Eater, but that was what he'd expected from his life."

 _In a nutshell, Tracey would be fine, Theo not so much_ , Hermione thought. "I'll be extra nice. What about Daphne? You dated her sister?" She tried to sound as normal as possible, while asking about the girl who evoked so many bad memories.

"Yes. She hates me whole-heartedly for it. She's very protective of Astoria; she didn't let her participate in anything Death Eater related during the war, rather offered herself. She hated that Astoria dated me, former Death Eater and bully. She couldn't understand it, but she accepted it for Astoria's sake, but when we broke up, there was no need for keeping up appearances. She blames me for the war. Because of me she had to torture and to fight, because of me she and her sister got hurt." His obsidian grey eyes were downcast. "Not that I blame her, really." Self-hatred was pouring out of him, turning him into something sinister and dark.

"Draco, please don't. The war wasn't you fault," she pleaded.

"But I let Death Eaters into Hogwarts. Because of me people got hurt." He laughed mirthlessly. "But Daphne'll probably like you. She'll keep Theo in check."

"Draco…"

"I'm fine. You don't need you to say things you don't mean. I can't forgive myself for …" he interrupted himself. "Anyway, you don't need to worry about Daphne."

"I won't. Why did you show up to Harry's party last week?" she changed the subject.

He pondered on that for a moment. "I don't know. I knew you'd be there, so I thought I'd give it a shot. But I was scared. When George first saw me, years back, he tried to kill me for his twin. A lot of people tried to get their revenge on me," he sighed, shaking his head as if trying to ward off bad memories. "Not that I haven't deserved it," he added darkly.

"Stop it! Stop it right now!" she exclaimed. "Self-pity won't change anything, so stop it!"

Surprised, he looked up.

"Please, don't beat yourself up about this. It's in the past," she said firmly.

He smiled, but it was a cynical smile. "Do you think your friends would just accept me as your boyfriend? They won't. They'll hold the past against me, and they'll hurt me and hurt you in the process."

She stared at him. "You think I don't know that?"

"No, you don't. You've never been hated before."

She winced violently and jumped up. "Oh, I know how it is to be hated." She stretched out her arm where Bellatrix had carved _Mudblood_ into her skin. "And I'll never forget!" The nightmares took care of that. Bellatrix managed to haunt her dreams long after she had gone. "So don't patronise me ever again!" she finally hissed.

He turned ashen. "I just …" he stuttered, unable to form a coherent sentence. But she understood.

Her burning eyes turned soft again. "You were scared and full of self-hatred. I get it, Draco. But I was prepared to fight. But if you aren't…?"

"No." He jumped up as well and grabbed her elbow. "Hermione, please, forget what I just said. Sometimes the darkness inside me makes me do stupid things. I _want_ this – us! I just don't want you to get hurt because it's not going to be my friends who'll hurt you the most."

She clenched her teeth. "So you actually think we could work? Former Death Eater and War Heroine?"

He flinched but didn't let go of her hand. "I asked myself that a hundred times, and I don't know the answer. We can only try." His eyes were begging her now, his voice husky. "Please, let us try. Please."

She averted her eyes from his intense gaze. This was supposed to be an innocent lunch and now?

"Draco …" His closeness was physical pain to her. She yearned for his touch, for his love, but it was the edge of a dangerous abyss she was balancing on. One false step and she would fall and break and scatter into pieces. But she couldn't help feeling drawn into the rightness of him, like he was exactly where she was supposed to be.

"I'm sorry." He stepped back. "I promised I wouldn't push you." His face was blank, but she could still detect the hurt in his eyes. She had done it again, hurt him.

"Damn," she cursed and grabbed his hand, pulling him into her. Before he could react, she had placed a gentle kiss on his lips. It lasted just for a few seconds; however, she still tasted it after she had stepped away. He tasted like salt and lime blossom honey, like summer rain and midnight, like a promise, like hope.

"I say we prove them all wrong. We try, whatever happens, we try!" she promised him with a steady voice, appearing braver than she actually was. But in this moment it felt true, like nothing could stop them, neither the devil nor death.

She felt invincible.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Hi guys, I hope you were all able to process the kiss I threw on you in the last chapter. This fic isn't even halfway over, so much more drama to come! I warned you. :)**

 **Thanks to my beta Cecelia Everhart as usual.**

 **On another note, I'm competing in the House Competition as a Stand-in for House Ravenclaw. I've already posted a drabble and a short story, and another themed piece will be up soon. So, go and check them out!  
For that reason, I feel I should apologise for this chapter. I didn't have the time to edit it was thoroughly as usual, but I wanted to give you guys something to read! **

**Now, enough from me. Enjoy the following chapter and don't forget to review!**

* * *

17\. Meeting the Slytherins

Draco stared at her unblinking. He still felt Hermione's sweet kiss on his lips. Automatically, he opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. Merlin's Beard, she had actually kissed him. So much for taking it slow.

She wanted to try; she had said it out loud. He definitely had to reply something this instant as to not look like a prize idiot. "O-okay," he stuttered. "We try."

The radiant smile she gave him rewarded him at once.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. "The food," he mumbled and hurried to the door. Quickly, he paid with the strange muggle money Hermione had lent him and returned to the table. In the meantime, Hermione had prepared plates and glasses and conjured some flowers to decorate the table.

"That smells wonderful," she said.

He nodded, unsure what to say. He felt the need to talk about that kiss, about what they were now, but he didn't dare to ask her or push her again.

She sighed and looked at him. "Stop overthinking this, Draco."

"I'm not," he mumbled and stuffed some noodles in his mouth.

"I can see the steam from here," she quipped.

"I just … what _are_ we now?"

"I think the concept is generally referred to as boyfriend and girlfriend," she answered dryly.

He froze. Was she meaning what she had just said?

"Snap out of it!" Hermione interrupted his racing thoughts.

"You really want _me_ to be your boyfriend?" He really couldn't believe it. He felt unworthy of her.

She paused, frowning. "Well, I can't deny my feelings for you. I still want to take it slow, but, as I just said, I want to try."

"Why?"

"Because it feels right," she answered simply. "Or have _you_ changed your mind? I know I'm not what you had hoped for as a girlfr –"

He interrupted her in mid-sentence. "No, I haven't. Please, be my girlfriend."

She smiled. "Okay." Slowly, she took a bite of her food and then said, "Wow, we're officially dating now."

He grinned. "Does that mean I'm allowed to buy you a birthday present?"

She shrugged. "I suppose. But you don't need to spend money on me. That's not why …"

"I know," he reassured her quickly. "But I want to."

"I can't stop you, I guess."

He grinned. "Nope."

Silently, they finished their plates, both lost in their thoughts.

"Does that mean we'll tell the others?" he finally asked.

She winced. "Would you mind waiting a bit? It feels so rushed, and I'm not sure they'll understand."

"Fine by me. That means I can sleep peacefully at night, without having to worry about Potter or Weasley barging in and killing me in my sleep."

"They won't."

He smiled crookedly. "Are you sure? I'm not. But we'll have to tell them eventually."

"I know," she sighed. "Let's first survive this week and then we'll tell them."

"Fair enough."

* * *

The remaining days until Thursday passed quickly, with some innocent handholding and reading together in the sun. They had decided to tell his friends nothing about the relationship as it would only complicate things. He knew Hermione was really nervous about it, and he tried to reassure her as well as he could. He had also noticed that Hermione behaved slightly different now. She didn't push him away anymore, but she seemed to be cautious around him as if it were too good to last.

On Thursday, they spent the afternoon at his flat and then apparated together to the Leaky Cauldron. None of his friends were present, so they sat at the bar and chatted with Hannah Abbot, the landlady.

"Hi Hermione, I don't see you here very often," she greeted Hermione and looked askance at Draco, "Malfoy. What can I bring you both?"

"I'll start with some Dragon Scale. Thanks," Draco muttered.

"Me too," Hermione agreed. "We're meeting with some of Draco's friends. How's Neville?"

Hannah handed them their beer. "Oh, you know, new school year and all. He's quite happy to be back in Hogwarts. But nothing exciting has happened so far, only Myrtle flooded another corridor. Filch was in a fuss," Hannah chuckled. "I'll tell him you've been here."

"Thanks. Maybe we can meet up in Hogsmeade some time."

Draco noticed that Hannah's eyes constantly wandered between them. He barely remembered her from their time at Hogwarts, but she had been at Harry's birthday party. For the first time he noticed the ring on her finger. "You and Longbottom are married?" he enquired all of a sudden.

Her eyes narrowed. "Yes. Any problem with that?"

"No. I just didn't know," he answered calmly.

"Hannah, please, Draco's okay. We're working together," Hermione intervened.

"And that's it?" she asked pointedly.

"You've read the article," Hermione sighed.

Hannah blushed. "I didn't believe it of course, but now you're here … in a Pub, _again_ , … meeting his friends."

"As long as Skeeter's not here," Draco mumbled and scanned the room.

"Impossible. She's banned from entering as a journalist. I want my guests to be left in peace."

"That's fortunate," Draco answered and tried to smile, but Hannah still seemed suspicious. Luckily, she was called by another customer and hurried away. "Puh," he sighed and touched Hermione's hand in passing.

"Sorry," she muttered, turning on the bar stool so that her knees touched his leg as if by accident. "She never got quite over you bullying her husband."

He groaned in jest. "Please don't make me apologise to Longbottom, too."

She grinned, but suddenly she froze. "Blaise is coming."

"All's well. Stay calm," he whispered and then turned to greet his friend. "Blaise!"

The tall Italian headed purposefully in their direction. "I wasn't quite sure why you wanted to hang out with all of us, but now I get it. Hello Granger." He winked.

"Call me, Hermione," she said smiling, at once captivated by his charm.

"Well, then Hermione, I'm Blaise," he smiled back. "Should we procure a table?"

"Fine," Draco mumbled, following his friend.

"So, tell me, what is this all about?"

"I wanted to meet you," Hermione threw in.

Blaise raised one eyebrow, and Draco was quite sure that he was figuring it out. "Fair enough," he only remarked and ordered some Firewhiskey.

A second later, the other three Slytherins arrived, worming their way through the crowded pub. Tracey smiled, but when she spotted Blaise, her smile died. Draco was cursing inwardly; he should have thought about that. Nevertheless, Tracey approached them, Theo and Daphne in tow.

"Hi Draco, Blaise, and …?" she faltered.

"Hermione," his girlfriend said at once and stood up. It was clear that Tracey hadn't stopped because she didn't know Hermione's name, but because there was the war heroine, best friend of Harry Potter, sitting on their table.

"What's _she_ doing here?" Theo asked roughly, eying her with disgust.

"Hush, Theodore!" his fiancé Daphne exclaimed at once. "She's his girlfriend."

"You shouldn't believe everything that's in the papers," Blaise drawled, before Draco could say something. "And now sit down and be nice!"

Theo narrowed his eyes but sat down anyway. "I thought this was supposed to be something casual."

"It is," Hermione said firmly, albeit a bit pale. "I'm here as a friend."

Theo clenched his teeth, but said nothing more.

"You are working with Draco?" Tracey tried to break the ice.

"Yes. I'm Junior Assistant in MLE. At the moment we're working together on a law to improve –" Hermione started but was rudely interrupted by Theo.

"Nobody cares about that stupid law, Granger."

"Theo!" Draco and Daphne cried out at the same time.

"What do you do for work, Daphne?" Hermione asked without batting an eyelid.

The dark haired witch flinched. "I'm an assistant physician at St. Mungo's," she answered, avoiding Hermione's eyes.

"And do you like it?"

"Yes, I do." Very carefully, she looked up. "Hermione, I'm sorry for our last mee–"

"Don't mention it!" she interrupted her quickly, turning even paler. "And you, Theo?"

"I don't recall being on first name basis with you," Theo answered coldly, earning himself an elbow nudge from his fiancé. "I do freelance work," he admitted grudgingly, albeit not very informative.

"Blaise, you work at the ministry, right?"

Blaise nodded.

"And you Tracey?"

"I write for the daily prophet, like Ginny," the girl explained.

"Please don't tell me you work with Skeeter," Hermione tried to joke.

Tracey laughed. "Hell, no. I'm not a fan of gossip."

"Hermione, fancy seeing you here" a dark voice interrupted them, and Draco turned around. Pansy and McLaggen were standing right behind them.

"Cormac and Pansy." Hermione smiled weakly.

"Nice to see another Gryffindor between all those snakes," McLaggen remarked and took the empty seat next to Hermione. "So, you're Draco's girlfriend now. Wouldn't have expected that from you."

"We're not –" Hermione started but was interrupted by Pansy.

"You and Draco, how exciting! How did that happen? Cory and I met at a charity dinner at the Ministry …"

"What would you like to drink?" Hannah saved them from Pansy's babbling.

They all ordered quickly, trying to change the subject, but Pansy was unstoppable. " … we dated for a few weeks, but then Cormac received a contract for the first team of the Chudley Cannons. You were married to that Quidditch player Krum, weren't you? So you know how it is. At first I thought, a Quidditch player – really? But then I saw him play and he's wonderful. I wonder why he wasn't in your house team, but Potter must've favoured Weasley..."

While Pansy chattered on, Draco noticed that Hermione had turned ashen. But before he could say something, Daphne asked, "I need a bit of fresh air. Hermione, would you mind joining me?"

His girlfriend looked startled, but nodded nevertheless. "Please, excuse us." She touched Draco's shoulder in passing to let him know that she was okay, but he still watched her worriedly.

Theo interrupted his thoughts. "What the hell are you thinking, mate? This is Hermione freaking Granger! You used to hate her!"

"But I don't anymore, okay?" he snapped.

"You can't be serious. You know what she and her bloody friends did. They destroyed your life."

"Keep your voice down," Blaise warned, while Tracey and Pansy watched them anxiously.

"V-Voldemort destroyed my life, not she," Draco hissed back, not caring about who would hear them.

The whole table flinched.

"Does your father know?"

"Yes!" Draco lied smoothly. "Don't you dare to say something hurtful or I …"

"You what? You don't scare me, Draco!"

"Stop it, the both of you!" Blaise interrupted them harshly. "Theo, if you can't behave, it's better you leave."

"So you're okay with him dating that …" he searched for words and then looked Draco squarely in the eye. "… _Mudblood_."

Within a second, four wands were pointed at him. "Take that back," McLaggen hissed before Draco could.

"No fights in my establishment or you have to leave right now!" Hannah interrupted them sharply, wand drawn as well.

"Apologise!" Draco growled, ignoring the landlady.

"Sorry," Theo snarled, not meaning a word of it.

"Calm down," Blaise murmured and lowered Draco's wand. "You don't want a fight."

He was right. Although the rage still pulsated though him, hot and glowing, he didn't want to risk a fight.

"That was dramatic," Pansy remarked.

"Shut up, Pansy," Draco sighed and earned himself a glare from McLaggen.

"Did anyone else get the impression that Hermione and Daphne know each other?" Tracey changed the subject.

"Maybe they met at the hospital," Blaise reckoned.

"But, doesn't she work as a surgeon?" Tracey asked Theo, who nodded curtly, still glaring at Draco.

"Maybe she had an accident," McLaggen said shrugging.

"Who cares anyway?" Pansy laughed and threw her blonde hair back in a carefully rehearsed move.

 _Me_ , Draco thought, but didn't say anything. While the others started chatting, he kept an eye on the door. They had been outside for five minutes now.

Maybe something had happened?


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: As usual, thanks to my beta Cecelia Everhart, and, of course, massive thanks to my faithful reviewers. You rock!**

* * *

18\. Shadow of the Past

Hermione had followed Daphne out of the pub, and they were now strolling down the Muggle streets, trying to evade possible followers.

"You're okay?" Daphne asked after a while.

Hermione nodded silently. She had known that Daphne would be coming, but it still had been a shock to see her again for the first time after ... the hospital. Desperately, she suppressed all the terrifying memories of that particular night and tried to pull herself together. "I'm fine. Thank you."

"Hermione, I … I wanted to apologise for … you know."

Hermione shuddered. "It was the right thing to do. If you hadn't – who knows where I'd be now." She watched Daphne from the corner of her eye, and it was crystal-clear from her demeanour that she was remembering that night as well.

"Still. I'm a doctor. I'm bound to maintain confidentiality." She, too, cast a quick glance at her companion. "But I'm happy you don't hold a grudge against me."

Hermione sighed. "Daphne …"

But the dark-haired witch wasn't finished. She stopped and pulled her in an alley way. "But, Hermione, what are you thinking? Draco freaking Malfoy?"

Automatically, Hermione tensed up. "He's not like Viktor," she said defensively and tried to step away from the other witch, but Daphne caught her wrist and stopped her.

"He's still not a good man! I can't forgive him, and I don't understand how you could," she said, shaking her head, but letting go of Hermione's arm.

"I … I don't know." Hermione shrugged insecurely. "It feels like ages ago that we were in school, and now, that we're working together I feel like I should try and give him a second chance."

Daphne stared at her. "He bullied you, and called you names, and wished the death upon you! He watched you being tortured!" She shook her head again. "Hermione, he can't be good for you. He might've changed his views, but he is still a coward without compassion. I've never understood how Astoria …" Her voice trailed away into nothing.

"Why do you care?" Hermione snapped. She knew Daphne meant well, but she didn't appreciate being ambushed like this about her choice of boyfriend.

When Daphne answered, her voice had lost all its steel. In fact, it was gentler and more vulnerable than Hermione had ever heard her. "Because I saw you … I saw you hurt and broken, and I don't want to see you like that again."

 _Oh._ Hermione felt her knees turn into jelly. "No! He wouldn't … he would never … _never_ hurt me."

"I bet you thought the same when you started dating Viktor," Daphne deadpanned, looking her squarely in the eye.

Panic washed through her, making her stomach clench and her chest tight. Daphne was right. She would never have taken him for the man he turned out to be in the end.

Daphne's gaze softened, seeing her reaction. "Hermione, I'm not saying he will … he never laid so much as a finger on Astoria, but … I just want you to be careful. You can come to me whatever happens. I'll help you kill the bastard if we need to!" Daphne promised, a malicious look in her eyes.

"You mean that? It's not only because you hate him?" Hermione asked weakly, still shivering all over.

"No. But if this turns serious … you'll _have_ to tell him about your ex-husband."

Hermione closed her eyes. "I don't think I can. He'll leave me."

"Then that might be for the best. Mark my words." She opened her handbag and handed her a piece of paper. It was a business card. "Here, my address."

"What about Theo?"

"I bet he's fighting with Draco at this very moment, but he'll calm down. You don't need to worry about him. He knows I'd leave him without hesitation if he tried anything." Daphne winked. "And somehow he can't live without me." Then, she turned serious again as if she was contemplating really leaving him. "But somehow I can't live without him either," she added almost sadly.

"Strange and cruel world," Hermione muttered. She tried to imagine her world without Draco, and it seemed dull, and grey, and lonelier than ever. He had brought colours back into her life, and joy, and laughter. "We should go back."

"Are you sure you're fine?" Daphne enquired softly, her blue eyes gentle.

"Perfectly fine," she lied smoothly. Together, they silently walked back to the pub.

Theo and Daphne left directly after they had entered (at Theo's insistence), and the mood stayed subdued for the rest of the evening. Hermione still felt tense and stiff; not even another beer helped her relax. Only Pansy chattered away happily, with Cormac throwing in remarks about his great personality, or skills, or whatever. Hermione couldn't bring herself to listen. Just one hour later, she excused herself on account of a headache.

Draco accompanied her to her flat as usual.

"Hermione, are you okay?" he whispered softly, tugging her down on his lap. She cringed at his touch and backed off a bit. The fingers that normally made her feel so good were nauseating, evoking pictures of Viktor in her head.

"What's wrong, love?" he enquired, noticing her reaction. His stormy grey eyes were worried.

"Noth –"

"It's not _nothing_. Did Daphne say something …?" His fingers abruptly stopped tracing patterns over her arm. His touch – albeit gentle – seemed to literally bite into Hermione's skin, and she winced.

"So, she did," he inferred. "Tell me!"

His demanding tone only made her more tensed. Abruptly, she jumped up and went into the kitchen. "It's nothing!"

He followed her. "I thought we were going to be honest to each other." Quickly, he reached for her wrist, making her react automatically.

"Don't touch me!" she hissed, leaping away.

Instantly, his face turned blank – his mask when he didn't want her to know how he felt. "It's bad then. Did you change your mind?" he asked flatly.

"No!" she breathed, trying to calm herself. She didn't know what to think, or what to feel, or what to say. "Please, Draco, I …"

"Then, tell me! Or I'll ask her myself," Draco threatened, and she could see that he meant it. He half-turned, but she quickly grabbed his elbow.

"Don't."

"Then tell me, in the name of Merlin!" he almost yelled.

The fear and the panic, the anger and the pain all bubbled and swirled inside her. "I can't," she hiccupped, repressing her tears with all her power. She felt her knees give in, but she wouldn't show weakness, so she clenched her teeth and straightened her back. Suddenly, she caught a glimpse of the shadow on his left arm, just in her line of sight.

The Dark Mark.

She didn't know why, but somehow it calmed her. He wasn't Viktor. He was only Draco, and Draco would never hurt her.

So she swallowed her sobs and her pain and pushed them deeply back inside. Then she locked them and the memories in her inner iron chest, so they wouldn't come out as long as Draco was here. She had snapped at him and hurt him, and he hadn't deserved that.

"I'm sorry," she muttered and looked up. His eyes were still like thunderstorm clouds, but they softened as soon as their gazes connected.

"Love, it's okay."

He had called her that before, but she hadn't noticed. "Why? Why do you put up with me? I'm such a mess, can't you see?"

"It's obvious, isn't it?" he mumbled and leaned against the kitchen counter, like she did.

Silently, she shook her head. To her, it wasn't obvious at all.

Draco sighed. "What did Daphne say, Hermione?"

 _Be brave!_ she told herself. "She …" she started, but words failed her. Clenching her fingers, she tried again. "She only … she said something … we … talked about you, and she warned me … that you weren't good for me, that you were without compassion, and that … you'd deliberately hurt me just like Viktor did." More she couldn't say. She was afraid to meet his gaze, afraid she would find anger or worse, disappointment.

"And you believed her." It was more of an observation than a question.

"No … not completely. But the thought made me … _sick_ inside," she tried to explain, clutching her stomach.

"Look at me," he pleaded gently, and she obeyed. His eyes resembled a silver river now, full of movement and emotion. "I will never – do you hear me? – _never_ intentionally hurt you. I promise."

"You can't promise that," she whispered, averting her eyes. Viktor had promised her heaven, too, but in the end she had received nothing of it.

"I'm sorry for the things he did to you. You don't have to tell me now, but I want you to know that you can. And I _can_ promise – I've taken an Unbreakable Vow before and I would again."

She swallowed. It showed her how much he trusted her telling her such things.

"You don't need to," she breathed and cast a quick glance at his face. He had been so gentle and kind, and she, on the other hand, had behaved like a demanding, spoilt child throwing a tantrum. Hermione felt like she needed to give him something back for all the pain she was causing. So she raised her gaze again.

"Viktor broke something inside me, my naivety maybe, but definitely my trust and my hope for the Happy Ending. Everything seems doomed to fail, all good things come to an end – without exceptions, so my fatalism takes over now and then. If you can't live with that … I won't blame you for leaving …" she swallowed. "But I want you to know how happy it'd make me if you stay." Very slowly, she leaned forward. She noticed that his eyes widened, but he didn't hesitate for even a split-second and met her lips halfway.

It was different kiss: bittersweet, salty from her unwanted tears, deeper, her hands curled into his soft hair, his fingertips like fire on her skin.

Finally, he gingerly pushed her away. "I'll stay," he whispered huskily, eyes dark with passion. They hadn't kissed since the first kiss they had shared. The second one had been even better and made her longing for more. "It'll always be like this, won't it? A rollercoaster of emotions." He chuckled and lifted her hand to his mouth to kiss it.

"Sorry," she sighed and leaned against him. "You should be mad at me."

"I should," he smiled sweetly. "You can make it up to me with another kiss."

She obeyed happily.

* * *

 **So, the cat is kind of out of the bag, right? You can probably guess what happened to Hermione...**

 **I'm sorry for the drama, but those two ... *sigh*... they just crave drama, don't they? :)**

* * *

 **Btw, one of my stories won the "Judge's Pick" of the House Competition! It's the second chapter of my Short Story Collection (the prompt is:** "What do you mean, 'I thought you were dead'?" **)** **, so check it out and, p** **lease, let me know what you think!**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Two chapters in one week? - I know what you're thinking, I'm spoiling you. BUT I'll be away for at least one and a half weeks, so this fluffy Dramione piece is supposed to make it up to you! ;)**

 **Many thanks to _Cecelia Everhart_ who betaed this chapter. And, of course, virtual cookies to everyone who reviewed. I greatly appreciate it, even if I don't reply personally! **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

19\. It's in her kiss

Hermione was sitting on the breakfast table together with Ginny, Harry, and the kids on Sunday morning. It was her last day before she had to start working again. For a while, she chatted easily with her friends, but, somehow, every now and then her thoughts wandered off to yesterday's afternoon at Malfoy Manor. Narcissa had been so open and kind, it seemed she suspected something. Lucius, on the other hand, hadn't shown up at all, barricading himself in his office. She hadn't minded too much; after all, she couldn't imagine ever liking the man, who had dragged his own son into this whole mess with Voldemort.

"Earth to Hermione," Harry interrupted her thoughts.

"Mhm?" she murmured absently.

"Ginny just said she wants to name the baby Tom Marvolo," Harry deadpanned.

"Wonderful idea – _what_?" She looked up.

They both grinned at her. "What were you thinking about?" Harry teased.

"Oh, nothing."

"Draco?" Ginny speculated dryly.

Hermione bit her lip, which was as good as a confirmation.

"Wow, this is serious between you two?" her red-haired friend asked.

"Mhm … maybe," she mumbled insecurely. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched them exchange meaningful looks. " _What_?"

"When were you planning on telling us?"

She looked at them apologetically. "On the next family dinner."

"So, you've thought this through?" Harry asked, a hard edge in his voice.

Cautiously, she looked into his green eyes, but his face gave nothing away. "Yes.", she admitted finally. "I can't help my feelings, Harry, and it's driving me crazy. But for the first time in months, years, I feel …" She shook her head, not knowing what to say. "I know what he did, but I trust him. I trust him, although I should know better, and … I can't explain it properly."

Ginny smiled a mile wide; Harry, however, pulled an unhappy face. "Malfoy, really?"

"Mhm-mhm."

"I think it's great!" Ginny said enthusiastically. "You look so radiant. He has to be good for you."

"He makes me laugh and enjoy life again. I think I've fallen head over heels for him," she confessed, nervously eying Harry.

His eyes softened when he met her gaze. "I've told you before: If _you_ think he's good enough for you, then he is good enough for me, too," Harry murmured, patting her hand reassuringly. "But that doesn't mean that I won't curse him if he hurts you." There was a serious undertone in his gentle voice, and she knew he meant it.

Hermione smiled faintly. She didn't _need_ him to be so protective, but it felt nice, _safe_.

"Mione, do be careful! None of us would've thought that Viktor'd be capable of…" Ginny's voice trailed away.

"Have you told him?" Harry whispered, scrutinising her.

She bit her lip and focused back on her toast. "No."

"But you will, won't you?" Harry dug deeper. She could feel his stern gaze x-raying her.

 _He doesn't understand_ , Hermione thought. For him, it might be easy to tell Ginny his darkest secrets, but for her it was not. What if Draco would leave her? "It's too early. I think he already suspects something, but …" she let her voice trail away.

"Hermione. You can't lead a relationship based on a lie," he said softly. Quickly, she focused her eyes on her plate to avoid meeting his intense look. She knew she would find so much compassion in it, But that didn't change the fact that he didn't understand. He knew about it, but that didn't equal knowing how it felt.

"I'm not lying, just omitting information," she defended herself. "And you _won't_ tell him!"

They exchanged another look. "If you are prepared for the drama…?" Ginny finally murmured.

"Dunno. We'll see on my birthday party at the burrow, won't we?" She shrugged. "Harry, James normally doesn't have blue hair, does he?" she smoothly changed the subject. Little James had become bored in his chair and had used his magic to gain some attention.

"Jamie!" Ginny exclaimed, and Harry jumped up to fix it while Albus laughed happily and used the inattentiveness of his parents to throw his food on the ground.

With their children to keep them occupied, Harry and Ginny luckily dropped the subject, and Hermione was careful not to bring it up again for the rest of the morning.

* * *

Draco had breakfast with Blaise in Diagon Alley since he had to run some errands there. But his thoughts constantly wandered off to yesterday afternoon. The tea at the Manor had gone well, but, before they could leave, his father had ordered him into his office like he was a naughty, wayward child. Draco had stayed and sent Hermione home, on the excuse that his mother needed his help with something.

Lucius had been fuming with rage, pacing to and fro. Narcissa had unfortunately let it slip that the relationship between Draco and Hermione seemed serious, which was something he wouldn't accept. His father had rambled on that she wasn't good enough for him, that he wasn't going to allow him to marry her, and that he would disinherit him if he would try. Not that Draco cared.

He would never again let his father dictate his life. But it was still his father.

"So, you summoned me here to not talk to me?" Blaise interrupted his dark thoughts. "Is it about Thursday?"

Draco shook his head. "No, not really. It's about my father…"

"What does he want?"

Draco shrugged and looked up. "Could you do something for me Blaise?"

His friend's charcoal eyes narrowed. "Depends."

"I need you to find out more about Viktor Krum," Draco admitted slowly.

"Why?"

"I think … he cheated on Hermione. There's something fishy in their relationship, but I can't put my finger on in." He shifted uncomfortably. "Daphne'd said something on Thursday which completely freaked her out. She scared me to hell."

"What did she say?" Blaise growled.

"That I'd hurt her … deliberately, like Viktor did." His slender fingers played with the hem of his shirt. "So, I think he might've cheated on her."

"Makes sense," Blaise muttered. "But how do you expect me to find that out?"

"I don't know, mate. I can't ask her and I won't ask Potter. Maybe Tracey can help you since she has access to the archives."

Blaise snorted. "Oh yeah, she is so going to help me finding out about cheating lovers. She didn't look at me the whole evening."

"So, that's what happened? You cheated on her?" Draco asked, frowning.

"Well, not quite. But I made a mistake, and she'll never forgive me," he said in a hard voice, and, as much as he tried to hide it, Draco could still detect guilt and sadness in his eyes. Draco knew, though, that his friend wouldn't tell him about it, so he dropped the subject.

"Try asking her anyway, okay? That's all I want."

"Mhm," Blaise grumbled, but nodded.

Jerkily, he tilted his head. "Tell me, if you liked her, why did you screw it up?" Draco asked point-blank.

"I didn't …" Blaise clenched his teeth. "We're not here to talk about my failed relationship."

"Fair enough," Draco succumbed. "I just don't know how to handle ..."

"Since when am I the relationship expert?" Blaise rolled his eyes. "You've got it bad, mate."

"I know," Draco sighed.

"When will you tell her friends?"

Draco groaned. "Next Sunday. It's her birthday and the Weasleys are throwing a stupid party at the Burrow. I can't believe I've agreed to this. They'll probably murder me without hesitation, and I'll be buried secretly in the backyard."

Blaise chuckled. "I'd like to watch that. But don't worry, she won't let that happen."

"That's scaring me even more."

"You should've thought about that before you courted her, Draco. Now it's too late." An amused laugh escaped him.

Draco growled deep in his throat, but his friend was right. "I need to go. See you at work tomorrow," he said jumping up.

"And I'll just pay for you or what?"

Draco grinned. "Thanks." Then he headed down Diagon Alley.

* * *

The week passed quickly; both Draco and Hermione had to work, and, although they met for lunch and in the evening, Draco still felt that he hadn't seen enough of her for the whole week. Unfortunately, they were both busy on Saturday; Draco had to stay at the office and Hermione had to rewrite some papers. However, they met up in the evening at Hermione's place.

"I've made us dinner," Hermione's voice welcomed him, when he entered her apartment.

He stepped into the kitchen, and the savoury smell of Pasta hit him.

"You shouldn't've cooked. You must've been busy the whole day," he said softly. His girlfriend turned around, cheeks flushed and a dazzling smile on her face.

"Draco!" Before he could react, she hugged him and pulled his head down for a gentle kiss.

"Are you okay?" he asked surprised.

"Yes. I'm just happy to see you," she beamed.

A warm feeling spread out in his chest; he felt so happy he could barely breathe. Hermione was very careful with her demonstrations of affection, and he himself had never really learned how to do that. His parents had barely hugged him, and, although he remembered that his mother used to tell him she loved him when she put him to bed, it had changed when he became older. It had taken him a long time with Astoria to simply hold her hand or tell her he loved her. And it still wasn't easy for him.

"Me, too," he smiled, stealing another sweet kiss from her. "What are you cooking?"

"It's a special recipe from my mother. Wait and see," she grinned back and hurried to the stove.

He nodded and started setting the table. Within minutes, the food was ready. "I thought I should impress you with my cooking skills. We can't order dinner every day," she explained smiling and piled spaghetti on his plate.

"I can cook next time," he offered and took a bite. Of course, it was delicious.

"If you want," she agreed self-consciously.

He watched her carefully. A worried frown had crept onto her forehead. "Are you ready for tomorrow?"

She pulled a face. "No. But Harry and Ginny know. They'll help us."

Draco nearly choked on his pasta. "What? Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, coughing.

"I must've forgotten. Sorry Draco," she apologised quickly.

He nervously searched her gaze. "What did Wonder Boy say?" He knew that Potter's opinion meant more to her than any of the other's.

"Stop calling him that," she scolded, but a little smile took the edge out of her words.

"Fair enough. What did he say?"

"He's okay with it if it makes me happy," she said, avoiding his eyes.

Draco couldn't believe it. "You're sure?"

"Yes. Ginny's happy for me, as well. But Harry might still threaten you not to hurt me," she mumbled, blushing furiously.

"That'd be so cliché." Draco rolled his eyes. As if Hermione couldn't take care of herself. She would probably hex his balls of if he cheated on her or so.

She winced. "I'm sorry."

"Did he do the same to Viktor?" he asked casually, and she tensed up at once. Wrong question, apparently.

"I don't know. When Viktor and I started dating, Harry had his own problems. He wasn't so fiercely protective of me then."

"What changed?"

Hermione shrugged. "My break up."

He didn't want to push her further and destroy the evening. "This dinner is delicious," he praised, changing the subject.

"And you haven't even tried desert." A mischievous smile played across her lips.

"There's desert?"

She grinned even more wickedly, but didn't answer.

After they had finished the food, Hermione charmed the plates to wash themselves up in the kitchen and summoned chocolate and strawberries. "Muggle sweets, I presume," he said, eying the chocolate.

"Wait!" she stopped him, when he reached for it.

Surprised, he looked up. She suddenly sat very close to him, more self-confident than usual, and took a strawberry. Slowly, she raised it to her mouth, kissed it with her lips, and then took a bite. His breathing stopped. Then she leisurely leaned forward and kissed him with her strawberry lips. She tasted sweeter than ever, like strawberries and sunshine.

"I think I like the desert," he whispered against her lips.

"I knew you'd say that."

* * *

 **Next up: Weasley family dinner...**

 **Please review!**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Hermione's birthday dinner has come. I hope it is realistic that way. Please, let me know what you think.**

 **Many thanks to my beta, Cecelia Everhart, and everyone who reviewed!**

* * *

20\. Downward Spiral

The next afternoon, Draco was impatiently awaiting Hermione, who had spent her morning with her parents as she hadn't visited them for weeks. Finally, the fireplace roared and Hermione appeared, a bit of ash decorating her curls. Draco grinned and stood up to greet her.

"Happy birthday, love."

She smiled warmly and stepped into his living room. "Hi."

"You don't expect me to sing, do you?"

She laughed heartily. "No. I'm fine with a kiss."

At once, he leaned forward and pulled her into a tight embrace, capturing her lips gently with his mouth. Beaming, she finally stepped away. "You do realise I'm now older than you?"

"I couldn't care less," he answered, marvelling at her burning eyes, like fire opals, and her radiant smile, like a sunrise. "Do you want to see my present?"

She pulled a face. "I told you that you don't need –"

"I know," he interrupted her. "Therefore, I bought you something useful and not too expensive."

She looked at him expectantly and smoothed her dark green dress. He knew she was wearing it for him and that made his heart swell. "Okay, then. Where is it?"

"One moment." He quickly went into his bedroom and came back with a little cage.

"Oh my god," Hermione breathed.

"May I present: this is Nyx, a young short-eared owl. You've mentioned that you might want to buy an owl, but that you're worried about Cookshanks. I talked with the woman from Eylops, and she recommended her because she had something of a friendship with the neighbours' Kneazel. She'll be fine with Crookshanks." He pressed the cage into her hands and she peeked through the bars, amazed.

"My own owl," she whispered. "Hi there. Can I offer you an owl treat?"

The pretty owl's head snapped around.

"I think that means _yes_ ," Draco grinned.

"Here." She summoned some treats and pushed them though the bars. "I'm Hermione."

Nyx rattled her beak and devoured the treats at lightning speed.

"Wow, thank you, Draco," his girlfriend said, her voice trembling with emotion. Carefully, she put the cage on the table and hugged him passionately. "It is a wonderful gift."

"You like it?" he whispered insecure.

"Merlin, yes. I do."

He grinned at her cheekily. "That means, I'm allowed to give you something for Christmas?"

"Perhaps." She smiled against his lips and kissed him heatedly. He felt it again: sparks on gasoline, his whole body on fire. Reluctantly, he pushed her away. "We need to go, love."

She sighed, but didn't let go of him. "I know."

He knew she was afraid of her friend's reactions and tried to soothe her. "We don't need to do this. We can keep it a secret a little longer."

"No. I want them to know. I want to move on." She tried to sound determined, but a slight quaver in her voice remained.

"Okay," he whispered and tugged a lose strand behind her ear.

"I'm just scared they'll hurt you, or scream at you, or … maybe something bad'll happen," she explained, squeezing his hand.

"Don't be scared, love. I'll be with you. It's me that should be scared." He winked.

"I'll protect you," she answered intensely.

Gently, Draco kissed her again, pulling her to the door. "Let's go."

They apparated to the edge of the wards and walked hand in hand to the front door. "Maybe, you go in first," Draco whispered, "and announce me, so that they don't hex me on sight."

She nodded and opened the front door. Immediately, loud cheering and singing greeted her. He heard Mrs. Weasley's characteristic voice and Ginny's familiar laughter. The whole family must be there, like on Potter's birthday party. He had been mostly ignored that evening, but somehow he felt he wouldn't get off lightly today.

After they had all wished her _Happy Birthday_ , he heard her clearing her throat and announcing loudly, "Thank you so much for the congratulations and the party. Now, I want you to meet somebody…" Her voice shook slightly. "He's my boyfriend, and I like him very much. I would appreciate it if you'd treat him decently and not ruin my day."

"Oh, how nice," he heard Mrs. Weasley sigh and shouts from the background, "Who is it?"

"Be nice, promise?" she insisted. Everyone seemed to agree because she turned around and called him. "Draco, come in."

Shocked silence welcomed him. He noticed the murderous glares from Ron and Mrs. Weasley, the unbelieving faces of George, Angelina, Bill, and Mr. Weasley, and the disgusted looks of Percy, Lavender and Fleur. The only ones smiling were Potter and Ginny.

"Ehm, hello everyone," he said calmly, but his voice sounded unnaturally loud in the room and everyone winced. At least, nobody had drawn his wand yet.

Little James was the one to break the eerie silence, not having noticed Hermione before. "Mioni!" he called out happily and ran to her with his little legs.

"Hi Jamie." His girlfriend smiled and lifted him up. "This is my friend Draco," she explained to him und turned to Draco.

"Dwaco!" Jamie exclaimed and automatically reached for him. Quickly, Hermione pushed James into his arms. It was quite clever actually because now nobody would dare to attack him. A bit awkwardly he held the little boy and looked cautiously to his parents, but they still smiled.

Suddenly, everyone started talking, and he saw how Hermione was pulled aside by Ron, but there was nothing he could do. He still held James and the Potters had surrounded him.

"I think this was a bad idea," he muttered.

"Nonsense! They'll calm down as soon as they've processed the news. Why don't we head to the garden?" Ginny proposed and grabbed his arm. He was quite happy to be outside, alone with the Potters.

"It's okay, Draco. Hermione just needs to explain it to them. They'll come to their senses," Harry mumbled. "You can put James down now."

Draco nodded. The boy had become quite heavy.

"Jamie, what do think about showing Draco the gardens?" Ginny smiled and kneeled in front of her son. "Would you like that?"

"Yeah. Dwaco, come Dwaco." The boy tugged quite forcefully at his hand, and Draco gave in. "Fair enough. Which place do you like most?"

Happily, the little boy led him further down a path to a cherry tree, where he spotted a little swing. He started pushing three-year old James, whose hair was just as unruly as Harry's, and enjoyed the child's laughter. However, he still worried about Hermione. What if they forced her to decide between him and the Weasley's? He would understand if she gave him up. He'd never had a large, close-knit family like this, and he didn't want her to abandon them for his cold father and a bit snobbish mother.

He was so lost in his thoughts and focused on James that he didn't notice the figures running down the path until they were right in front of him. It was Weaselking and his twinless brother, followed by Ginny, who tried to stop them. All of a sudden, a spell pushed him back, so that he was pressed against the tree trunk. George and Ron both had their wands out and pointed them at him.

"What game are you playing with Hermione?" Ron raged at him.

"No game," he stuttered, not being able to move and reach for his wand.

"Then why is she suddenly convinced she can trust you, ferret?" George hissed. "Love potion?"

"Why would I do that, for Merlin's sake?" he sneered. He couldn't help but act like his arrogant self around those idiots.

"Ron, George, this is stupid. Stop it right now!" Ginny exclaimed and tried to push her brothers back, and, although she was strong, having played Quidditch for years, her brothers were stronger.

"We can't let him hurt her, don't you see that? She'll break if …" Ron whispered, but Draco heard him nevertheless.

"I won't hurt her. I like her," Draco threw in.

"Viktor bloody Krum said the same," Ron snarled, turning back to him.

"What did that guy do that everyone freaks out about it?" he asked exasperatedly.

All three of them turned pale. So they knew. Everyone knew, except him.

Ron put his wand at Draco's throat. It was hot from his anger and sent burning pain through his body. "If you hurt her, we'll kill you. We won't let the same happen again."

"I understand," he choked.

"Ron, you're hurting him! Back off or I'll hex you!" Ginny warned. At once, Ron took a step back. His little sister apparently wasn't one to trifle with.

"So, you're intentions are honourable?" George repeated.

"Of course, they are. Now let me go!" he snarled. "I don't have to answer to you."

"She's our friend."

Following an inspiration, he hissed, "If she were your friend, you wouldn't feel so damn guilty about what happened with Viktor. That's the reason you're threatening me. You feel guilty because you didn't help her then. That's so pathetic. I've always known that you were pitiful, useless –" He wasn't able to finish his sentence because some spell hit him and he blacked out.

* * *

Just after Hermione had escaped Ron and George, who had accused her of not being in her right mind and of making a terrible mistake, Molly Weasley pulled her into the laundry room.

"Hermione, dear, I can understand that you must feel lonely, but I don't think Draco Malfoy is the right choice …" Molly began.

"We're not together because I'm lonely. We're together because we like each other," she tried to explain calmly. "And I understand that he made mistakes in his life, but so did I. He shouldn't be judged by them."

Molly pressed her lips together. "Maybe he shouldn't be your next mistake, honey. He can't be good for you. And I don't want you to get hurt again."

Molly didn't know everything that happened with Viktor, just bits and pieces, but it was enough. "Why can't he be good for me? He's intelligent, funny, charming, he genuinely cares about me, and he won't hurt me."

"But how can you know that, dear? He might not be a Death Eater anymore, but he did things –"

"I know. Still, I forgave him," she interrupted the older witch.

Sorrowfully, the Weasley matriarch shook her head. "Hermione, please, listen to me. He's not a good person! You are making a horrible mistake."

She knew Molly hadn't said those words to hurt her, but they did hurt, nevertheless. Everyone thought she was crazy to trust him, and maybe she was, but she was so sure that he was right for her. They way his kisses felt, the feelings he awoke in her…

"I'm not," she finally replied. "If you can't accept my decision…"

"Hermione," Molly pleaded.

She shook her head.

"Well, fair enough," the elderly woman snapped. "It's your party today and you can invite whoever you want to, but I don't want him in my house. If it weren't for him, my son would still be alive. Many people would. You should consider that when you choose your friends next time." She gave Hermione a sad, meaningful look and left the room.

The words shook her deeply. She wasn't welcome here as long as she dated Draco. She had expected them to be mistrustful of him; however, she had believed they would trust in her decision, that they would trust _her_. Apparently nobody did. As if the things Viktor had done, had been _her_ fault, _her_ misjudgement.

Consequently, if she and Draco would break up, it would be her fault all over again because she had horrible taste in men. If he cheated on her, it would be her fault, too, and if he hit her, it again would be her fault.

That thought made her sick inside. She fled out of the stifling laundry room to search Draco and disappear from here. If she wasn't welcome, she wouldn't stay any longer.

"Draco?" she called, walking into the living and nearly colliding with Ginny. The redhead looked pale and truly guilty. "What's wrong? Are you feeling unwell?" Hermione asked at once.

"I'm fine, Mione, but …" She glanced back into the living. "I tried to stop them."

"Stop who?" Hermione asked confused and peered over Ginny's shoulder. She caught a glimpse of a lifeless, deathly white body on the couch. "Draco," she gasped, pushed the redhead aside, and ran to the couch. For a split-second, she thought he was dead, but then she spotted his chest heaving. The relief she felt now was comparable to the relief she had felt when they had discovered that Voldemort hadn't killed Harry. Nevertheless, he looked ghostly pale, sweat on his forehead, his limps trembling with every breath.

"What curse did you hit him with?" she snapped and turned around. "Who was that?"

"Hermione, calm down," Harry said and grabbed her elbow. "Lower your wand."

"I'm perfectly calm," she hissed and scanned the room. Molly looked quite contented, bustling around in the kitchen; Percy was cleaning his glasses nonchalantly; Angelina bit her lip and glanced at George, who sat on the armchair with James; and Ron examined his shoe tips. "Ron? George?" she asked, deducing the culprits. "What did you do?"

She wanted to scream, but suddenly she felt only disappointed as if all her strength had left her.

"N-nothing. He was insulting us," Ron stuttered, having at least the decency to look ashamed.

"What spell did you use?" she asked brokenly, finally lowering her wand.

They both flinched. "He's going to wake up, don't worry," George mumbled.

" _What_ _spell_?"

"Stupefy," George admitted.

"Ron?"

Ron's gaze wandered between her, Draco, and Harry. "One of the Auror spells, but I don't think it was supposed to be used together with a stunning spell."

Harry, next to her, tensed. "Ron!"

Hermione needed no further explanation. She could figure out herself that it was nothing good and probably painful. "Harry, you'll help me carry him?"

"We are sorry, Mione," Ron pleaded.

She pretended not to hear him. "Harry?"

"Of course," he muttered, his green eyes full of sympathy. She levitated the unconscious Draco out of the living room, ignoring everyone in it, and headed to the apparition point.

Harry followed her closely. "He'll be fine as soon as the stupefy wears of."

All of a sudden, she wanted to scream at Harry for not taking care of Draco, for not helping her, but she had no strength left. The only thing that came out of her mouth was a strangled sob.

"Mione," he whispered and put a hand on her shoulder. "Let me do this."

She shook her head, but took his offered hand, nevertheless. Together they grabbed Draco and apparated to Hermione's flat. They had just put him on the couch when the floo roared to life. Preparing for the worst, Hermione drew her wand, but it was only Ginny.

"I'm so sorry, Mione," she sobbed and pulled her into a tight embrace.

"It's okay," Hermione mumbled, finding herself in the odd position of comforting Ginny although she was the one needing comfort. As soon as Ginny loosened her grip on her, Harry pulled his wife into his arms. "Gin, it's fine. You couldn't have stopped them."

While Ginny tried to regain her composure, Hermione swayed over to Draco. "Is he in pain?" she whispered with a breaking voice.

"I'm not quite sure what Ron used. I hope not," Harry answered and kneeled next to her. "I'm sorry."

She shrugged and took the ice-cold hand of her boyfriend. He seemed to be freezing. "Harry …" she began, but interrupted herself.

"Tell me," he whispered and helped her put the blanket over Draco's body.

"You don't think … you don't think it was my fault, do you?" Her voice broke.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes.

"V-Viktor," she choked and tightened her grip on Draco.

"No!" Harry and Ginny exclaimed simultaneously. At once, Ginny was at her side. "Who said that? Ron?"

She shook her head. "They implied it. But your mother made it quite clear that …" A sob let her voice break. "… that I'm not welcome as long as …" She couldn't speak any further, but her friends understood.

"She'll change her mind. Don't worry, Hermione," Harry tried to reassure her, while Ginny seemed to be fuming. "How could they dare to …" she hissed, but froze suddenly. "I think he's waking up."

At once, Hermione focused on her boyfriend. Ginny was right. His lashes fluttered.

"We'd better go. If you need something, you can owl us or come over," Harry said.

"Always!" Ginny confirmed in a firm voice.

Then they hurriedly fled through the floo, leaving Hermione with a half-conscious Draco.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Hello sweeties! Here comes a new chapter full of drama and heartbreak.**

 **Thanks to Cecelia Everhart who betaed it.**

* * *

21\. Down The Rabbit Hole

Draco woke painfully slow. In the background, he could hear hushed, muffled voices, but he couldn't distinguish them. His mind focused instantly on the ice that seemed to swim through his veins, cooling his body down. He was literally freezing, like an ice statue. He could neither move nor call for help, just feel cold through and through.

"Draco." A worried voice made him snap out of it. Hermione. Through pure willpower, he managed to open his eyes and stare at the ashen face above him. He was only dimly aware of the fact that they were back at her flat. Groaning, he carefully stretched his muscles and rejoiced at the feeling of the spell and therefore the cold leaving his body.

"Draco, how are you feeling?" his girlfriend asked softly, her fingers leaving hot trails on his skin.

"Cold," he stuttered with chattering teeth.

She muttered something under her breath and sudden warmth rushed through him. "Better?"

"Mhm," he murmured weakly and moved aside so that she could lie beside him. "Come." He patted the couch. Carefully, she lay down next to him.

"Are you okay?" she mouthed and he felt her warm breath at his neck.

"I am now," he breathed, closing his eyes tiredly. "Just exhausted. That spell wore me out."

"I'm so sorry, Draco!" she apologised at once.

"Hush, love. I don't blame you. Just let me sleep for a while," he slurred, already half asleep. A second later, he was under again.

* * *

When Draco woke, Hermione was no longer beside him. Quickly, he sat up, scanning the room. On the table next to him stood a steaming cup of tea, but Hermione was nowhere in sight. Silently, he got up and approached the bedroom. He hadn't intended to eavesdrop, but the sounds that came from inside made him freeze on the spot. Uncontrollable, gut-wrenching sobs echoed through the door. But then, she also seemed to be talking with someone. He couldn't make out the words; they were too broken up and made unrecognisable by her weeping.

It broke his heart.

"Hermione?" he called and knocked lightly.

Immediately, her room fell eerily quiet. Very carefully, he nudged the door open. Hermione was sitting on the bed and clutching Crookshanks, as if her life depended on him. Her curls were a tangled mess, hiding her face.

He swallowed and then asked in a raw voice, "Love, are you okay?"

His words seemed to startle her, but then she pulled herself together, straightened her back, and looked up. All the signs of tears had vanished, but the hard look in her eyes betrayed her. Cracked amber again. "Yes, of course. I was just worried about you," she said, but it sounded like a lie.

Her dishevelled cinnamon hair appeared golden in the evening sun, like sunrays on the water. Quickly, she pulled it into a ponytail and added, "How are you?"

Before he could answer, she suddenly jumped up and pushed him back into the living. "I've made you tea."

"I'm better, thank you," he mumbled and watched her cautiously. "This must have been your worst birthday ever."

She shrugged nonchalantly and busied herself with folding up the blanket. But her back was rigidly upright and her shoulders tense. It was crystal-clear to him that she wasn't all right at all. The bloody Weasleys must have given her a hard time.

"What happened?" he finally asked when it was clear she wouldn't say anything else.

She still didn't turn. "They hit you with some nasty spell; then, Harry and I took you back to my place. That's it," she answered without inflection.

"Why are you so upset, then?" he enquired, reaching for her, but she quickly ducked away and fled to the other side of the sofa, starting to plump up the cushions.

"I'm not upset," she declared blankly. She hadn't looked at him once.

"Hermione."

She didn't react.

"Hermione, stop this and look at me!" he hissed more forcefully than he had intended to.

She stiffened and stared at him like a deer in the spotlight.

"What's wrong?" he asked as soft as he could to not startle her further.

"N-Nothing," she lied again.

Why was there this nervous flickering in her eyes? Was she scared of him? "I'm not mad at you if that's what you think," Draco clarified hurriedly.

Some of the tension in her shoulders loosened, but she still didn't return his gaze. "You have every right to ..." she swallowed. "I'm so, so sorry."

"It's not your fault," he reassured her and sat down on the couch. "Will you talk to me now?" Invitingly, he patted the spot next to him.

She paused, then shrugged, and finally sat down beside him. She didn't touch him, though, and the space between them felt like a wall he couldn't cross.

"What happened?"

"I've already told you –" she began, but he interrupted her quickly, "Not to me, to _you_."

"Nothing," she repeated brusquely.

He searched her gaze, but she deliberately looked away. "You don't need to lie to me. "

Finally, she turned her head. "It's not important. We simply won't visit the burrow in the near future."

"I don't underst–"

"They don't want to see me anymore, okay?" she snapped and stood up. "They made me choose: you or them. I chose you."

Suddenly, he felt so many different emotions all at once, stabbing in the chest like a branding iron. Why would she do that? He definitely wasn't worth it, to be chosen over family. But, on the other hand, there was this small tingling of happiness he didn't quite understand yet.

"Why?" he asked because he really couldn't grasp why she'd choose him.

She sighed. "Because you are good for me, and they don't understand that. They think you're my next mistake after V-" She didn't finish her sentence.

"Viktor?" he whispered.

Hermione nodded. Abruptly, he jumped up as well. "I need you to answer me a question." Without waiting for a confirmation, he blurted out, "Did he cheat on you?"

She flinched. "No. Why would you think that?"

"Then, what did that guy do that just about everyone freaks out about it? I deserve an answer." He grabbed her wrist, before she could turn away. "Don't walk out on me again. I got hexed today because your stupid friends feel they have to protect you from me, due to something that happened between you and Viktor. I want to know what that was."

"They said something about Viktor?" she nearly squeaked.

"Not directly."

"Please, Draco." Her eyes turned pleading. "Not today. I promise I'll answer your questions, but not today."

Looking in her deep in the eyes, he realised that he'd lose her if he pushed her any further. The hidden agony inside of them sent strange pains through his chest.

"Okay," he whispered and made a step back. "Please, forgive me."

She nodded and looked up at him through her lashes. Then, faster than he could react, she'd thrown her arms around him and hugged him tightly. Gently, he pulled her even closer and put his cheek on her head.

Finally, he said softly, "I should go. We need to go to work in the morning."

"Please, don't," she breathed. "I don't want to be … please, Draco."

He felt exactly the same. The thought of going home to his cold, empty flat and leaving her here in this forlorn place made him already miss her more than he should.

"Kay." He nodded, tugging a strand of lose hair behind her ears. "But I probably won't be able to sleep for a while. Just let me shower first."

She smiled weakly and nodded.

When he returned in his newly conjured pyjama, she was already in bed. They hadn't slept in one bed since the holiday. Very carefully, he slipped under the covers.

"Thank you, Draco," she whispered against his lips and kissed him gently.

Finally, they separated, and she snuggled closer to him, resting her head on his chest. "Good?" she asked.

"Perfect," he smiled, stroking softly over her hair. The soothing movement made her fall asleep in minutes, but Draco lay awake for a long time, reviewing the day in his head. He hadn't quite realised her words before, but now it came rushing at him, like the ground to a falling man.

 _She had chosen him_. She had chosen him over her friends.

The thought filled him with the warmth of a thousand suns. Because it made him realise that he wouldn't know what to do if she had chosen otherwise. He couldn't be alone anymore; no, it was more than that. He couldn't be without her, even for one day, much less the rest of his life. And suddenly Draco only knew one thing, and he wanted to hold on to it and to live inside of it forever.

 _He loved her._

The thought was so overwhelming and so powerful that he felt like waking her and telling her at once because she needed to know.

But she looked so peaceful. He didn't have the heart to wake her.

But tomorrow, _tomorrow_ he would tell her.

* * *

 **I hope you liked it! Please review, everyone!**

 **Oh, and btw, don't forget to check out the stories I write for the House Competition. (- Short Story Collection) Chapter 2 and Chapter 4 have won the Judge's Pick so far. It would really make me happy if you'd have a look-see and leave a review as well.**

 **Thaaaaank you!**


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Beware, confessions of love ahead! :D And Skeeter's causing trouble as ususal.**

 **Thank you to my beta _Cecelia Everhart_ and everyone who reviewed.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

22\. Trouble in Paradise

Hermione woke slowly and peacefully. Her fingers were intertwined with Draco's, even in sleep. In that moment, she realised how much she loved to wake up next to him. It made her feel as if the days past wouldn't haunt her anymore and the future days were survivable. He made her feel strong, strong enough to face the days ahead of her, even with the whole mess with Ron and the other Weasleys.

She inhaled his scent deeply and enjoyed the moment for a second longer. Then, she opened her eyes. Draco was still fast asleep. Slowly, like a cat, she raised her head and leaned on her elbows to watch him. She felt as if she could stay like this forever and never stand up, avoiding the realness of reality and all the awkward moments, where she didn't know what to say or what to do, where the memories would claim her and make her fearful and broken.

Cautiously, she leaned over him to kiss his lips gently. Instantly, he woke.

"Mhm, morning," he whispered. "I'd love to wake up like this every morning."

She smiled and kissed him again.

"What did I do to deserve this?" he asked, opening his bright silver eyes.

"You're here with me, that's all," she answered, feeling so safe und so fulfilled inside.

A smile danced on his lips. Suddenly, he sat up, pulling her up with him. "Are you okay?"

She knew he referred to her birthday party. "I don't know," she answered truthfully. "Yes, they hurt me, but I'll get over it. I always get over it."

He pulled her closer so that she could lean against his chest. "I wanted to thank you, Hermione," he breathed into her hair. His fingers slowly trailed down her arms and, finally, intertwined with hers. "All my instincts tell me that they're right, that you shouldn't choose me, but then everything inside me fights that feeling because …" He pressed her hand, "…I don't want to lose you."

Carefully, she turned so she could see his face. A worried frown had appeared on his features. With her fingertips, she smoothed out the lines on his forehead. "You don't need to thank me, Draco. I'm unable to leave you, even if I wanted to. You have me all wrapped around your little finger."

His gaze turned even more serious, and, suddenly, she was afraid that she had said something wrong.

"I need to tell you something." He swallowed, and her breathing accelerated. Was it something bad?

"I couldn't really sleep yesterday, so I had a lot of time to think about it…" he continued, his back of the hand caressing her cheek. "You don't need to answer or … do anything. I just want you to hear it."

Her insides clenched expectantly. "Okay."

"I think I'm in love with you. I, Draco Malfoy, love you, Hermione Granger." He chuckled. "Isn't that the weirdest thing you've ever heard?"

Her heart missed a beat and then continued beating at double speed. Had he just said he _loved_ her? That couldn't be. "Do you mean that?" she whispered thickly.

"Of course, I do. It took me nearly a year to tell Astoria, but with you … it's so easy, like breathing." He smiled so bright and happy, that it made her ache inside. She had sworn to herself to never fall in love again after Viktor, to never be that vulnerable, to never allow her feelings to cloud her judgement again. But with dating him, she had broken this oath, and now she was just about to break it again by falling harder than she'd ever thought she would. However, she couldn't say it – at least, not yet.

"It's not the weirdest thing I've ever heard. I think it's the most miraculous, the most beautiful thing, someone has ever said to me. But Draco, I …"

"I know, love," he said softly. "I didn't tell you, so you'd reply the same or do anything for me. I just … I just needed you to know."

His confession made her breath catch in her throat. How could he be so selfless? How was it possible that he felt in such a way for her? It was an enigma.

Slowly, she leaned forward and kissed him with all she had. She couldn't tell him yet, but she could show him.

* * *

Draco was just about to leave his office and floo to Hermione's place a few days later when Blaise caught him.

"Hey, Draco, wait!" Blaise grabbed his arm and pulled him to one of the apparition points. "Come with me."

Before Draco was really ready, his friend turned and apparated with him. When Draco could breathe again, he hissed, "What the hell, mate? I could've splinched."

"Well, you didn't." Blaise looked around, scrutinising the area.

They seemed to be in some park in the outskirts of London. The sky was overcast, and the sun had to fight its way through the thick clouds. Not many people were outside. A woman walking a dog. A kid with Rollerblades. A man reading a newspaper on a bench.

"What's going on?" Draco asked, copying his friend's behaviour and scanning the surroundings. "Why are you so paranoid?"

Blaise took a deep breath and focused back on Draco. "Sorry, mate. I just didn't want anybody to eavesdrop. Tracey and I did some digging."

Draco's insides went cold. "Did you find something?"

"Not much. _But_ we found out that Skeeter's trying to dig up some dirt as well, probably much more successfully than we are, I'm afraid. She seems to be preparing some big news story about Hermione and you, about how Hermione abandoned her friends for you, and something about Viktor, too. Tracey overheard her speaking with the editor, but she didn't reveal too many details. So, unfortunately, we weren't able to figure out what she had in black and white. Maybe, it was just talk, but I felt the need to warn you. Skeeter needs to be stopped," Blaise said insistently.

"Shite." Draco ran his fingers through his hair. "I'll talk to Hermione about it. She managed to stop her once; maybe, she can do it again. Thank you, Blaise," he said sincerely. "So, it's 'you and Tracey' now?"

"Shut up, Draco. At least, she's talking to me again."

A smile flickered across Draco's face, but then he turned serious again. "What were you able to find out anyway?"

Blaise winced. "Nothing about him cheating on her."

"I thought so," Draco nodded. "But, what is it then?"

The dark-skinned wizard shrugged. "There wasn't much in the British press. All we got was about Quidditch. He played for Puddlemere United, but apparently the two seasons he played with them didn't go all too well. In the end, he quit. At least, that's what the papers say. However, there're a lot of rumours that he was kicked out of the team because he showed up drunk for a game. Hermione and Krum led a very concealed private life, not much leaked out. We found some more articles, though, about him being a drunk, so there might be some truth in it. Maybe that's why she left him."

Draco let out a long breath. Blaise had found out nothing too unexpected. "That's all?"

Blaise bit his lip. "We found an article from a Bulgarian newspaper, which was quoted in _Witch Weekly_ , where … well, he'd been overheard allegedly saying some pretty nasty things about Hermione."

"What things?" the blond wizard growled. Instinctively, he felt the need to protect her.

Blaise pulled a face. "He blamed her for not having children yet and other stuff. All rubbish, of course."

 _Bastard_ , Draco thought but said nothing. Hermione had implied such things before. Did that mean that Viktor had been an alcoholic? Was that the reason she was so careful? Was she afraid he'd freak out and scream at her or something? Or maybe she feared he'd start drinking as well?

"Thank you, Blaise," he murmured eventually and clapped the other wizard on the shoulder.

"You're welcome, mate. We'll see if we can find out more, about Skeeter as well," his friend promised.

"Be careful."

Blaise only chuckled and disapparated without another word.

Draco pondered about what he had just heard, but, finally, apparated home. Hermione opened the door at once. "Sorry, Draco. I hope I haven't kept you waiting. I was caught up at work. Why didn't you use the floo?" she asked, still in her robes.

"I'll tell you later. Go, have a shower, and I make us some dinner," he offered.

"You don't need to. Just put some Pizza in the oven," she smiled and disappeared into the bathroom. Absent-mindedly, Draco raided the fridge and started to make a salad while the oven was pre-heating. Twenty minutes later, Hermione appeared, her hair still slightly wet.

"That smells great," she praised and set the table with a wink of her wand. "Did you have a bad day at work?"

"What? – Er, no," he stuttered and looked up.

"What is it then?" she asked and helped herself to some salad.

"Blaise caught me and told me that …" Draco stopped to put the pizza on their plates. Should he tell her?

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Yeah?"

He bit his lip. He wouldn't lie to her. She needed to know. "Well, Tracey overheard the editor and Skeeter talking about a new story that she had in mind." He watched her carefully. "A story about you. Apparently, she brought some stuff to light about you, and Viktor, and about our relationship."

Hermione nearly choked on her pizza. "I'm going to kill her," she threatened. For a second, she looked so angry that it scared him.

"Where does she get her information from?" he asked calmly and stabbed his fork into a tomato.

"Oh, you should know best." She raised one eyebrow. "Didn't you and your little friends give her 'exclusive interviews' during the Tri-Wizard-Tournament?"

Draco's face went blank. He had actually forgotten about that. "She's an _animagus_!"

"Correct," she said, sounding awfully like Professor McGonagall. "But she's registered now; after the war, there was no way around it."

"That's how you prevented her from writing rubbish about you …" Draco murmured slowly. "But we can't use it now. So, what do we do?"  
She gritted her teeth. "I don't know. I need to talk to Harry." She fiddled with her fork and finally put a piece of pizza in her mouth. "Do you know what exactly she supposedly found out?" Hermione asked a tad too uninterestedly.

"No. But Tracey'll keep on her tail. _Is_ there something to find out?" Draco enquired in the same uninterested voice.

"Not much, but you know her stories. She'll blow the truth up until it's unrecognisable," Hermione murmured nonchalantly.

"Mhm," Draco muttered and took a huge bite of his pizza. He was pretty sure she wasn't telling him the whole truth. "What else can we do?"

"She won't respond to threats … so maybe, we have to offer her something."

Draco cocked one eyebrow. "Oh, I can be quite threatening, if need be."

"I don't doubt it, but … we need to keep her occupied until we can steal her intel. I need to warn Harry and Daph – " she interrupted herself, but it was too late.

"Daphne? As in Daphne Greengrass? Why?" Draco asked sharply. So she _did_ know her.

Hermione shrugged. "N-nothing."

"You know I can tell by now if you're lying. Why can't you just tell me?" Irritation seeped into his voice. He had stopped eating, and now she put her cutlery down as well and looked at him defensively.

"There is nothing to tell," Hermione said and stood up abruptly. "I'll go see Harry."

"No," he contradicted and stood up, too. "I'll go." He knew she was lying, and it hurt, it hurt so much. She still didn't trust him with her secrets after all they've been through, after she knew how he felt about her. The more she tried to deny the truth, the more it scared him. What could possibly be so bad she couldn't tell him? Maybe Potter could shed some light on the matter.

"Draco …,"she pleaded, half reaching for him. Of course, she didn't want him to go, didn't want him to know. He had told her that he loved, and she still treated him like an outsider.

He glared at her. "That means you still don't trust me?"

She swallowed. "I do." She sat down again, suddenly looking heartbroken. "Fine. Visit Harry. He won't tell you a thing."

"Fine," Draco hissed and disappeared through the floo without another look back.

* * *

 **A lover's spat or a more serious row - what do you think? Tell me! :P**

 **PS: I just wanted to spotlight my short story about the 10-years anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, written from the PoV from Ginny, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco. Feel free to check it out! I'm sorry, I couldn't come up with a catchy title, but it's really worth a read. Includes some Dramione, too :D**


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N:** **To put you out of your misery - here's the next chapter. I really hope you like it although it's kinda short. I apologise.**

 **Thanks for the reviews!**

* * *

23\. Behind Amber Eyes

Hermione paced to and fro in her living room, wondering if she should follow Draco to Grimmauld Place Number 12 and why he hadn't returned yet. Harry would never, _never_ , tell Draco her secrets. Even now, after he'd told he loved her, she simply couldn't confess … the thought made her gag.

The sun drowned behind the skyscrapers of the city, and shadows devoured the fading light. It was sombre in the room. Nyx returned from delivering a letter to Daphne through the open window with a mouse in her beak; but other than that, nothing happened.

Maybe she had lost him now. Too many secrets and lies.

After what seemed like hours, green flames erupted in her fireplace and Draco appeared. His face was expressionless, not showing any emotions.

"Draco!" she squeaked and jumped up. "What did Harry say?"

"We have a plan," Draco answered mono-syllabically, his shoulders stiff.

She took a step back as if he'd slapped her. She swallowed and tried to pull herself together. She didn't want to show him how much his behaviour hurt her. "That's it? Any details?"

"Ask him." Draco shrugged. Although he tried to hide it, she could see that he felt distressed as well. "I just stepped by so you wouldn't worry. I'm going to stay at my place tonight," he added flatly.

Immediately, she felt rejected. He had stayed over every night for weeks; even some of his things were in her closet. "O-okay. Did Harry tell y–"

"Of course, he didn't. He's loyal till death," Draco sneered, now his hurt and anger obvious on his face and tone. His fists clenched until his knuckles turned white.

Hermione sighed, trying to push back the intense pain in her chest. "Draco, Drake, please. I …. I can't …"

"I know," he said and held up his hands as if to prevent her from touching him. "But I just can't take it for today. See you at work." Before she could react, he had turned on his heels and disappeared again.

The encounter left her numb. For about five minutes, she simply stared at the empty fireplace, turning the conversation over and over in her head. Had he just broken up with her? No. But he was mad at her for keeping secrets. Maybe he was right and she didn't trust him? Was she such a terrible girlfriend?

And what had he planned with Harry?

It was too late to answer any of these questions now, so she put the food in the fridge and went to bed, but found herself unable to fall asleep. When she finally did, sinister nightmares about Draco and Viktor haunted her.

* * *

On the next morning, Hermione sat at her desk; however, she couldn't concentrate for even one second. Draco simply wouldn't leave her mind. He was invading her subconscious with thoughts about his delicious smell, his kisses, his words, his voice, his…

She sighed and took out a fresh parchment and some ink.

 _Dear Draco,_

 _I'm sorry for everything that has happened. Please, don't give up on me. I couldn't sleep without you in my bed, and I can't survive one single day without you at my side._

 _No words can express how I feel about you. Please believe me that I trust you. Just give me some more time._

 _I love you, Draco. I do._

 _Forever yours,_

 _H._

With a tap of her wand the letter disappeared.

* * *

Just before lunch, her door opened without warning and Draco stomped in. "What is this?" he snarled like an angry dragon.

Taken aback, she answered, "A letter?" Her letter, to be precise.

"No, Hermione. You can't just throw such things at me." He panted heavily and glared at her.

"Oh." Suddenly feeling very helpless, she stood up. "I didn't know … I thought … are you breaking up with me?"

His rage vanished at once. She could see how the fire left his thundery eyes with each word. "No! Of course not!" He took a step forward. "But that doesn't change that you are keeping secrets from me."

A sigh of relief escaped her lips. He still wanted her. He still loved her, despite her secrets, despite her behaviour. "I am," she stated frankly, her voice shaking slightly. "Can you give me some more time?" She wanted to tell him, she really did. But she just wasn't able to bring herself to say the words.

He swallowed audibly. She could see that he was still unsure about what to do.

Quickly, she stepped around her desk. "Please, Draco. We're only just together. Please, give me half a year."

"A month," he haggled.

"Three months!"

His eyes narrowed. "Fine." He half-turned, but then stopped. "Did you mean it?"

"What?"

He searched her gaze. "What you wrote?"

She smiled faintly. "I'd never lie about such things."

"Then tell me." He stepped closer; so close that she could touch him if she would reach out.

Nervously, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear; then, she let her eyes wander until she looked him straight in the eye. "Draco Malfoy, I … I love you." The words rushed out of her, and suddenly a huge weight was lifted from her chest. She felt free, like a Phoenix.

His mask crumbled, and she caught a glimpse of the emotions deep inside him. There was pain, and wonder, and … something else. She couldn't quite place it. Unexpectedly, he covered the distance between them with a step and framed her face with his hands.

"Hermione Granger, I love you."

Then, he kissed her with so much passion and love that her insides tightened with pleasure. She completely sank into him, forgetting the world around them.

After Hermione had finished her work for today, she decided to visit Harry's office, so he could tell her what he and Draco had planned. She hated to be kept out of things. She waved to his secretary and entered the office.

A familiar redhead was sitting with the back to her in one of the chairs in front of Harry's desk, and it was not Ginny. Dammit. Ron. Before she could leave, Harry had spotted her.

"Hermione. Come in." He waved her over.

"Oh, um, I can come back later," she offered, avoiding Ron's gaze.

Harry rolled his eyes. "This fight you have is petty. Get over it, Ron."

"Shut it, mate," Ron growled, completely tensed up. "If she stays, I leave."

"Ron," Harry tried to reconcile, but Ron jumped up, sulking.

"I see. You choose _her_ again. I'm out of here." His voice was drenched in bitterness.

In a rage, he left the office, shoving Hermione with his shoulder on his way out. Agape, she looked after him. She knew he was angry, but _that_ angry?

"He'll come to his senses," Harry tried to reassure her, but she knew that he was wrong.

Slowly, she took the seat Ron had just vacated. "Did Ginny say something about …" Her voice trailed away into nothing, but Harry knew who she meant.

He shrugged vacuously. "She's not speaking to Ron and George right now because she's still mad at them for hexing Draco. Molly … well, she loves you, Hermione, and she simply doesn't want you to get hurt. But she can't really forgive the Malfoys and neither can Arthur. Percy…" Harry shrugged again. "I don't know what he thinks. And Bill and Fleur …" Harry winced. "They saw you after Malfoy Manor, so they don't understand how you can … but they respect your decision."

That was a more elaborate explanation than Hermione had expected. Absent-mindedly, she rubbed her hurting shoulder. "But Ron … how can he … _hate_ me that much?"

She didn't want to cry, but his behaviour had hurt her deeply. After all they had been through she had expected more from him.

Harry grimaced. "He's not really mad at you, just at Draco and at himself, but for now he's projecting it on you."

"You really should've studied psychology," Hermione said drily. "Anyway, I'm not here to talk about Ron."

Harry raised his eyebrows.

"I want to know what Draco and you have planned."

Harry's expression turned serious. "Hermione, you need to tell him about Viktor. I don't understand why you still keep it a secret although you two are serious about your relationship."

Hermione's face fell. "He asked you, didn't he?"

"Of course, he bloody did."

Hermione seemed to crumble a little. "Oh Harry. I can't explain it properly. I feel ashamed, and scared, and … how do you tell someone something like this?"

Harry's green eyes turned soft. "I understand you. He will, too, don't worry."

She wasn't sure about that at all. "What if he leaves me?"

"Why would he?" he countered.

Hermione shrugged noncommittally. "Broken goods."

"No way! But he'll leave you if you keep on hiding secrets from him," Harry warned her quietly.

"I know," she whispered. She knew all too well. It had nearly happened yesterday. But she wasn't ready yet.

But maybe she could show him otherwise how much she trusted him.

* * *

 **Suspense! *evil laughter* What will she do?**

 **Please, review!**


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: Thank you for the many wonderful reviews that reached me, they all made me smile! Keep that up, guys! :D**

petuniatc, **your prediction was spot-on! Virtual cookies for you (::) (::)**

 **I decided to take pity on you (I'm not all evil** purplehedgehog13 **, haha (thanks for your review)) and post this chapter today. It actually ended on another mean cliffhanger, but then I put that part in the next chapter. The ending felt right this way. I really hope you like it! It'll be the last "sun, rainbows and pink unicorns"-chapter, after that ... drama and heartbreak. Beware!**

* * *

24\. Supergirls Don't Cry

When Draco came to Hermione's place that evening, a romantic candle-light dinner awaited him. Wow! She was really trying to make that fight up to him, wasn't she?

"Hi, love," he smiled warmly.

"Hello, Draco," she answered and kissed him gently.

"You didn't need to put so much effort into our dinner," he whispered against her lips. She pulled away and stared at him.

"But I wanted to. You have deserved someone better and more honest than me, but you still stay. It's a miracle."

" _You_ are a miracle," he chuckled and pulled her close again.

Way too soon, she freed herself from his embrace and said, "Dinner's getting cold."

"I don't care about dinner," Draco stated playfully, but followed her nonetheless. Her kisses were dinner enough, though, he thought. Since she had told him that she loved him, a warm feeling had settled in his chest and carried him through the day. She _loved_ him. Like for real. He wished she would say it again.

"I hope you like it," she mumbled and filled their plates with baked potatoes and steak.

He took a small bite. "Perfect."

She a bright smile danced on her lips. It made him insanely happy that something simple as that could make her smile.

While they ate, they chit-chatted about this and that, but avoided any serious topics. Finally, she asked, "What do you think about a little stroll?"

"Sounds great," he nodded, putting his cutlery aside. It seemed she had planned out the whole evening.

"Then let me show you something."

He stood up and wanted to get his jacket, but she stopped him. "Wait! You don't need that. It's not that kind of stroll."

When he turned, he saw that she had conjured up a shallow stone basin, into which runes and strange symbols were carved. The silver cloud-like liquid swirled around and created a misty aura around it. He knew instantly what it was.

"But … where did you get that from?" he asked astounded, inhaling sharply.

She blushed slightly. "Harry. It's from his office. It can be used for interrogations, you know. But today is Friday, so nobody'll miss it."

"You stole ministry property?"

"I _borrowed_ it."

He shook his head. "Who are you and what have you done to Hermione?"

She laughed. "It's just a Pensieve."

"Just a Pensieve?" he asked in high voice. "You're unbelievable."

She grinned smugly. "Well, shall we?"

"Ready when you are," he answered and took her hand. A Pensieve was the last thing he had expected, and he was unsure about what she intended to show him. "What will I see?"

"Surprise." She took out her wand and pointed it at her temple. With an elegant movement, she placed the silver, hair-like wisp in the Pensieve. A light squeeze of her hands signalled him to lean forward, and they both disappeared into the past.

* * *

 _The first thing he saw was an eleven year old girl with enormous, bushy hair. She was about to open a letter with a big red seal in the middle. In front of past Hermione sat Charity Burbage, the professor for Muggle Studies._

 _At once, Draco felt the familiar sick feeling that overcame him whenever he remembered the night of her death. But he didn't want to think about that now. He wanted to enjoy what Hermione was showing him. So he refocused on the amazed little girl, whose eyes grew bigger with every word she read. Meanwhile, the professor seemed to explain everything to her parents. But the sound was muted, probably because Hermione hadn't listened._

 _"_ _Are you okay?" the real Hermione asked next to him, noticing his reaction._

 _"_ _Mhm," he mumbled vaguely and looked around. "Your home looks comfy."_

 _"_ _It was. Sometimes, I miss it." She still studied him very cautiously, but averted her eyes when he met her gaze._

 _"_ _What happened?"_

 _Hermione shrugged and walked over to a shelf. "My parents sold it," her fingers touched the frame of a picture gently, "when they moved to Australia during the War."_

 _"_ _Oh." Right, she had told him about that. He was still impressed to the lengths she was willing to go to protect the ones she loved. "You look happy," he remarked thoughtfully, looking back at the little girl._

 _"_ _I was insanely happy."_

 _Suddenly, the professor stood up and seemed to show Hermione's parents some little spells. The surprised faces of her parents and the contented look on Burbage's face made bile rise in his throat. How could he have just sat there and watched while such a warm-hearted and kind person was being killed?_

 _Hermione's voice brought him back to reality, "Draco?"_

 _"_ _Can we go?" he choked._

 _"_ _Of course," she replied. The memory darkened and then vanished to manifest itself in a familiar castle. He suppressed his own memories and concentrated on the surroundings._

 _"_ _Is this the girl's bathroom?" he asked, scandalised._

 _She chuckled lightly. "Yeah. Halloween, first year. Do you remember?"_

 _He thought about it for a second and then exclaimed, "The troll!"_

 _A sobbing sound broke the silence. It came out from one of the stalls, and he rushed to open it. Young Hermione sat there and cried bitterly._

 _"_ _What happened?"_

 _The older Hermione answered, "Ron said something mean after I'd tried to help him in Charms. It hurt me. I had no friends at all, you know. I was so lonely in the beginning."_

 _Suddenly, a dragging noise and heavy footsteps interrupted them, and Draco spun around, wand in his hand. The bloody troll stood right there, seemingly staring directly at them._

 _"_ _It's okay, Draco. Just a memory," his girlfriend whispered, taking his hand reassuringly._

 _Agape, he watched Potter and Weasley appear. They all fought the troll until he was knocked out. "That's how we became friends," she explained, her voice even sadder than before. Then the memory changed and images flickered by from a three-headed dog, a gigantic plant – which he recognised as_ Devil's Snare _– flying keys, a chess board, and potions._

 _"_ _What was that?" he asked confused._

 _"_ _That were the tasks we had to solve to get to the Philosopher's Stone." A smile flickered across her face. "I got 50 points for it."_

 _"_ _That I remember." He grinned lopsidedly, remembering how angry he had been that evening and how different his feelings for her were now – now, he was proud at his brilliant girlfriend._

 _The memory changed again, and he saw Gilderoy Lockhart, Harry speaking Parseltounge, them brewing Polyjuice Potion, and himself calling her mudblood. Immediately, a wave of guilt washed through him, but Hermione didn't even bat an eyelid._

 _"_ _That was second year. I won't show you the basilisk." She shuddered slightly. "Onwards to third year, yes?"_

 _Draco watched the years pass by, saw her grow, and fight, and getting hurt, but survive all the adventures. He met Sirius Black, watched Remus Lupin morph into a werewolf, witnessed Wormtails confession and the rescue of Buckbeak and Harry's godfather. He caught glimpses of the Yule Ball and Viktor, of the things Harry told her from the Tournament, of Grimmauld Place and the Order of the Phoenix, Umbridge, the ministry, Dumbledore's Army, himself – paler than usual –, the dead headmaster, the familiar tent, pictures from their time on the run, hunted by Death Eaters, and snakes, and Voldemort. Thankfully, she showed him nothing from Malfoy Manor because he wasn't quite sure if he could bear it._

 _All that time, he clung to her hand like a lifeline, through this world of swirling pictures and memories. He watched the battle of Hogwarts from her perspective, how they rescued him twice, how she went to the Chamber of Secrets to get Basilisk fangs, how she kissed Ron – the jealousy inside him growled – how Harry told them what he had to do and then was carried back, apparently dead, from the Forbidden Forest. After the battle had ended, he saw how she mourned Fred, and Lupin, and Tonks, and a little boy, whose name he had forgotten. All of a sudden, the pictures ended, and he was pulled out into the real world again._

* * *

Hermione watched her boyfriend anxiously while he tried to process what he had seen. She was still a little confused about his reaction to her first memory. Was it her Muggle parents, and her Muggle clothing, and her origins in general?

Viewing her memories had made her feel wistful and heartbroken. Ron and she had fought through almost all ups and downs together, even when he had been with Lavender and when he had left them. He always came back, made up with her … but now? He seemed to hate her.

The pain was so real, so sudden, and so intense for a moment that she gasped and quickly turned away, so Draco wouldn't notice. But he was caught up in his thoughts, completely self-absorbed.

Silently, she started to make some tea to regain her composure, and when he looked up for the first time, she had repressed all her sadness.

"Thank you," he said sincerely. "That was amazing."

She smiled wanly. "Why were you so … strange in my first memory?"

He accepted the cup of tea she offered. "It's nothing," he replied without inflection.

"Is it because I'm muggle-born?" she asked bluntly.

"Merlin, no!" he exclaimed, furrowing his brow. "It was the professor." His face darkened when he seemed to remember something. Slowly, it dawned on her.

"Voldemort."

He flinched violently and grabbed his left arm. "I just sat there and watched," he confessed, every drop of self-hatred he had in him seeping into his voice.

Gingerly, she touched his hand with her fingertips and loosened it from his arm. "Please, don't."

He took a deep, calming breath and pulled himself together, banishing all the bad memories from his mind. Now was not the time for that. "Why did you show it to me?"

She stiffened slightly. "I do trust you. I just can't …" Words failed her, and she averted her gaze.

He understood, though. "I know." He took her hand and pulled her closer. "It's not fair to demand that you tell me all your secrets when I keep secrets from you as well."

She looked up at him. "You do?"

He smiled lopsidedly. "Everyone has secrets, love." Pulling her down with him, he sat down on the couch. She leaned against him, relishing their closeness.

"Reveal one to me. You could show me," she demanded eagerly, her eyes glimmering with curiosity.

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Devious little witch. But no, not today."

She pouted and looked at him with big topaz eyes, but he shook his head. Suddenly, she sat up straight, changing the subject. "Harry told me about your plan, and I think it's stupid."

"Why?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "You yourself said that we need to offer Skeeter something."

"Ugh, but not you and Harry, for Merlin's sake!" She threw her hands in the air exasperatedly.

"Only to keep her distracted."

"This will never work," she predicted. "Neither will the false evidence you want to conjure. She can fabricate that herself."

"Oh, trust me. She'll be taken in by it," he promised, grinning just as wickedly as she had before.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Oh well, please yourself."

He rolled his eyes, grabbing her hand. "Come on, love. Don't worry. Everything's gonna be alright." Without warning, he pulled her closer and kissed her fiercely.

"You scared me, you know?" she breathed against his lips. "I thought you were done with me."

"I could never be done with you. I'm sorry that I've scared you," he whispered back, pulling her even closer. His arms around her felt so good; she wanted him to never let go.

"Never mind. Just don't leave me again. Not ever. I … couldn't bear it," she murmured into his neck.

Softly, he kissed the top of her head. "Never, love."

"I love you, Draco." She couldn't help it; she had to tell him over and over again. Because it was true. She loved him genuinely, more than she had ever loved Ron or Viktor.

"I love you, Hermione," Draco murmured and a warm feeling spread though her body, making her forget all the worries and the sorrow of the day.

However, after they had gone to bed and lay there side by side – Draco already fast asleep – she couldn't stop the sadness inside her from growing until silent sobs broke out of her throat. It was a different kind of pain from when she had thought Ron would leave her forever because Ron was still there – he just hated her. It felt like betrayal. And it hurt. It hurt so much.

* * *

 **Please review, you lovely people!**


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: Hi, my dear readers, here it is: the beginning of the end.**

 **I considered leaving out the Daphne-part, but I wanted to make it clear that Draco didn't just accept Hermione's "3-months"-promise. He wanted to discover her secret by himself. That's the reason he reacts so strongly in this and the following chapters and draws the conclusions he does. I don't want to spoiler you, just explain.**

 **So, enjoy the craziness that awaits you!**

 **Thank you to _Cecelia Everhart_ , who betaed this and all following chapters!**

* * *

25\. The Ties That Bind

The following weekend, Draco visited Daphne to find out some more information about Hermione's past. It felt wrong, but he needed to know. At least, that was what he told himself.

"Hi Daphne, is Theo home?" he asked, entering her sitting room without bothering to knock. Of course, he knew that Theo was out.

She instantly glared at him. "No. Sorry you had to come all the way here to find out. Bye," she spat full of venom. She really hated him, didn't she?

"Ehm, Daphne?" he asked innocently.

Irritated, she looked up from whatever she was doing. "Why are you still here?"

"Can I ask you something?"

Her expression turned even darker. "Depends."

He stared her squarely in the eye, pretending to be more confident than he actually was. "I know that you know Hermione. But why won't she tell me about it? Why does she deny knowing you?"

"That's none of your business," the dark-haired witch hissed, her gaze flickering to her wand on the table. Did she think he would threaten her?

"So you don't deny it," he stated calmly, and she flinched. She apparently hadn't wanted to reveal anything.

Draco stepped closer. "Why is it a secret?" he enquired when she didn't answer. He didn't understand the secrecy. It couldn't be that bad, could it? It was Hermione, after all.

Daphne shrugged, trying to act nonchalantly. "I don't know what you're talking about. And now, get out or I'll tell Hermione you've been snooping around. She won't like it."

Draco sighed, realising he'd have no luck with her. "Fine. I won't forgive you, by the way."

"For what?" she asked, frowning.

He gritted his teeth and growled, "For telling her I would hurt her." With that, he disappeared again.

* * *

In the following weeks, nothing new came to light. Tracey and Blaise couldn't find a single clue, not even in the ministry's top secret files. Potter must have destroyed everything about Hermione's past.

But Rita Skeeter found a way, as she apparently always did. He and Hermione had just celebrated their two month anniversary, when a big headline appeared.

 ** _CAUGHT IN THE ACT!_**

 _Is sly Miss Hermione Granger cheating on the most eligible Bachelor of the year?_

 _An anonymous source reported that the War Heroine was regularly entertaining lovers during her marriage with Quidditch Star Viktor Krum. Their marriage ended for unknown reasons, but this strongly indicates that wicked Miss Granger was the guilty party. Research showed that Krum was also more and more concerned about his wife's behaviour and expressed that in letters to friends in Bulgaria. As possible lovers, he named The Chosen One, Harry Potter, and co-war hero Ron Weasley, both also married at that time and both in previous relationships with Miss Granger. My source also identified Oliver Wood, Keeper at Puddlemere United and former team mate of Mr. Krum, and Anthony Goldstein as possible candidates, who would probably satisfy Miss Granger's taste for famous wizards._

 _This pops the question if the former Brightest Witch of her Age is toying with her new boyfriend Draco Malfoy,_ _two-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award._ _But, as previous articles have demonstrated, she seems quite adapt at making Love Potions. As loyal reporter, I will investigate this further. In the meantime, let's hope that Mr. Malfoy watches out for himself and, next time, bestows his heart on a worthier candidate._

Draco put the paper down and stared out of the window, half expecting to see his father's owl tapping against it, but it was just the rain.

He had genuinely thought that Potter's and his plan would work out.

* * *

When Hermione came out of the bedroom, she found Draco staring out of the window. "Something wrong?"

Draco winced and looked at her startled. "No. Just tired. Have you slept well?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. The nervousness in Draco's eyes told her that he was lying. "Perfect," she lied smoothly and hugged him from behind. "Come back to bed with me."

Normally, Draco would follow just too gladly, but today he freed himself and got up to make some tea in the kitchen. Hermione watched him, frowning, when he came back with two steaming mugs. "What are you doing with the Prophet?" It looked like he was trying to accidentally throw it away.

Draco flinched. "N-nothing."

Hermione sighed. So there was something. And it had to do with that blasted newspaper. "Tell me! Is it Skeeter?"

"You shouldn't read that!" Draco mumbled and stuffed the paper into the bin.

" _Accio_." Within a second, it was in her hand. Hurriedly, she skimmed through the awful article. Oh my god. _Oh my god._ How did she … how could she know? Which letters was she speaking of? Cold panic shot through Hermione, and her hands started trembling violently.

Draco.

He had read this.

Oh, sweet Merlin. That was why he was acting weird. He thought it was the truth. He thought she was cheating on him, just like Viktor.

What was he going to do?

"Hermione, breathe." Dracos's voice came through to her, and she realised that she was hyperventilating.

"It's not true. I swear, Draco," she choked out, not daring to look up. "I swear. I wouldn't …" Hard sobs broke out of her throat.

"Love. Hermione, I didn't think–"

"Please, Draco," she interrupted him, not even hearing what he was saying. "I didn't sleep with Harry or Ron. I didn't."

"Hermione," he called her firmly; and from the corner of the eye, she saw that he reached out to touch her. Automatically, she flinched away, throwing down her mug of tea in the process. The splintering noise threw her out of the present and back into her past, when she'd had the same fight with Viktor.

* * *

Taken aback, Draco stared at his uncontrollably weeping girlfriend, who had curled up on the floor. What had he done? He shouldn't have let her read the bloody article!

"Hermione?" he whispered. " _Reparo_." In a flash, the cup was whole again, and the hot tea vanished with another wink of his wand, but she didn't stop crying. He felt so helpless.

"Shit, Hermione." Draco noticed that she had cut herself with the splinters; however, when he kneeled down next to her to help her, she flinched away violently. He froze. Why wouldn't she let him touch her? Did she believe he would even consider one word out of that witch's pen for the truth?

"Hermione!" Firmly, he grabbed her shoulders, not caring about her intense reaction. "Snap out of it."

She stared at him, but didn't really see him. It was as if she was looking at a ghost – her amber eyes widened with terror and pain. The unfounded fear in them shattered him, broke him inside. She still whimpered like a wounded animal; her hands rose in defence as if he would hurt her.

"Please, Viktor," she sobbed and tried to free herself, panic-stricken.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

She was having a flashback or something. He had seen it happening all the time during his last year in Hogwarts. A strange noise, a certain smell, a reflection of light, or – in his own case – the darkness. He certainly wasn't the one who could help her now. Without thinking, he took out his wand and cast a speaking Patronus, then, he sent it to Harry.

It only took a few seconds for the fireplace to roar with green flames, but to Draco, it seemed an eternity, each second agonising pain in his chest.

"What did you do to her?" an unexpected voice yelled, and Draco spun around.

"What are _you_ doing here, Weasel King? I didn't ask you to come," he snarled arrogantly.

Within a split second, another person appeared in the fireplace. "What the hell, Ron?" Harry hissed at his friend.

Ron spun around. "I thought something bad happened," he tried to defend himself.

"Be happy that Ginny isn't feeling too well or she'd kick your ass for eavesdropping."

"Shut up!" Draco interrupted their bickering. "You need to help her." He gestured helplessly at the floor where Hermione was still sobbing and rocking to and fro. "She's having a flashback. She thinks I'm bloody Viktor. All because of that stupid article," he added, his voice husky with worry.

Ron and Harry exchanged a look and kneeled down next to their friend. Draco didn't know what to do, and he didn't want to interrupt, so he went back to the kitchen.

After a while, Harry entered. Draco wasn't sure how much time had passed since he could only stare out of the window into the grey sky. There was no rainbow, no lone ray of sunlight, merely sharp flowing sheets of liquid crashing down on the earth like bullets. His thoughts raced.

"Draco?" Harry asked softly.

Immediately, Draco spun around. "How is she?"

"Sleeping. Calming Draught," Harry explained without wasting words. "Ron's with her."

Anger flared through Draco's chest, burning like a supernova. But he said nothing, just looked out of the window again.

"You're upset," Harry remarked a bit awkwardly.

Oh hell, yes, he was. His own girlfriend was afraid of him. And now _Weasel King_ was comforting her – he who had shunned her and cast her out of his life. But she wouldn't let _him_ – her own _boyfriend_ , who would do anything for her – near her. It suffocated him.

"Please, forgive her. She wasn't herself."

"Then tell me what she was! Because nobody wants to tell me anything. All that _I_ know comes from the bloody newspaper!" Draco snarled heatedly.

"It was a flashback," Harry mumbled and sat down at the table. Draco had to bite back a snarky comment. He already knew as much.

"She and Viktor had a lot of fights about this. He forbade her to see Ron and me. So she used to sneak out and meet us secretly. We didn't know… we didn't know for a long time." Harry sighed. "What you said to Ron was the truth. We both feel awfully guilty because it was her friendship to us that got her into trouble and we didn't notice a thing."

"Then you're the worst friends ever," Draco remarked coldly. It was the only thing that came to his mind. He still needed to process what Harry had said.

"We were," Harry whispered, and his voice was so full of pain that Draco shivered.

"Astoria and I had fights, too, but I never had a flashback about them," Draco realised and turned to study Harry's face.

"Mhm," the black-haired boy mumbled and traced the scar on his forehead with his fingertips, carefully concealing his face.

"So what happened?"

"I can't tell you. It's not my place."

"Fuck that. Tell me now! I deserve to know," Draco snarled, banging his fist on the kitchen counter.

"You do, Draco," Harry agreed, nodding slowly. "But _she_ needs to do this. Please, be gentle with her. She deserves a good person as boyfriend."

"Not someone like me."

"That, I didn't say," Harry contradicted, shaking his head fiercely.

Draco shrugged. "Never mind. She doesn't trust me anyway. I saw it in her eyes, the fear. She was afraid of _me_ , Harry." His voice broke accidentally. "I'm done with the blasted secrets."

"It wasn't you she was afraid of," Harry tried to assure him, but Draco brushed it off with a shrug.

"Stop defending her. I can't take it any longer. Her carefulness around me sometimes; her nightmares that wake her up in the middle of the night, and she thinks I don't notice; she, wincing every time someone says Quidditch or Viktor; the flinching away from me or the look in the eyes if I said something wrong. I bloody hate it. You can believe me I've tried everything, but … " Draco shook his head. "This is enough. Three persons are too many in a relationship."

"Don't do this. I'm begging you," Harry pleaded, his voice shaking with emotion.

Slowly, Draco turned. "Then tell me."

"I can't," Harry whispered, his green eyes full of regret. " _Please_."

Draco stared at him for a moment. "I'll give her today."

"I guess, that's all that I can get," Harry murmured sadly. "I check on Mione and then I need to head back. Ginny's in a hell of a mood."

Draco couldn't help chuckling although it wasn't funny.

Suddenly, Ron entered the room. "She's sound asleep."

Draco's face went vacant. He wouldn't forgive him that easily. "Out of the apartment at once, Weasel."

"What's got your wand in a twist?" Ron asked nonchalantly.

" _You_. Do you know how many times she cried because she met one of your family members on the street and they wouldn't talk to her, or because she saw something that reminded her of your times together in Hogwarts, or simply because she missed her best friend? No, you don't. She never showed it to me, would never admit it, but it hurt her so much. And now you dance in here, playing the hero. You don't get to do that because you _failed_ her," he raged at him, all his anger breaking free from his control. He breathed heavily, clenching and unclenching his fist.

Ron's face went ashen. "She … I … sorry," he spluttered.

"I don't think _sorry_ is enough to make up for that." Draco had to hold onto the chair to stop himself from punching the git. Not that he hadn't deserved it. "Stop pretending to care and get the heck out of here. For all I care you can rot in hell," Draco spat viciously.

Ron swayed back as if Draco had really hit him; then, he turned wordlessly and stormed out of the kitchen.

"Feeling better now?" Harry asked slightly amused.

"Yes," Draco lied smoothly. "The git deserved it."

"He wanted to make up with her, you know; that's why he was at my place."

"Do I look like I care?" Draco shrugged. "Didn't you have a wife that's demanding your presence?"

Harry winced. "You'll be alright?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Why wouldn't I be? Now, get lost."

"Yeah, just let nobody see how you're really feeling," Harry mumbled but left anyway, after casting a quick glance into the bedroom.

Draco, though, stayed in the kitchen and watched the lashing rain, which seemed to mirror his emotions.

Inside, he was crying. Inside, he was ice cold. Inside, he knew it was over.

* * *

 **I was made aware of the fact that the review function didn't work when I posted the last chapter (thank you again, purplehedgehog13!). I was slightly worried that nobody liked it... So, thank you to everybody who wanted to review but couldn't. (And, of course, thank you to everyone who actually did review!)**

 **Let's make up the "lost" reviews in this chapter, yes? :)**


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: To celebrate the 200 reviews(!), I decided to update today. I really like these last chapters, and I think they feel more coherent if there's not such a long time span in between, so I'll update more often - at least, I hope I will.**

 **I included a little poem at the beginning. I think it fits the mood nicely. The title of the chapter comes from "Love Hurts" by Incubus. I listened to it while writing parts of it.**

 **Thanks to all my reviewers, especially to:** i love new storys, Chester99, Sherlock Harry Winchester (thank you for reviewing every single chapter!), purplehedgehog13, Cat130, crookshanks the kitty, and my three guest reviewers **, who made the 200 reviews possible!** **I hope I satisfy you thirst for more with this! :)**

* * *

"Epigram" by Ernesto Cardenal

 _When I lost you, you and I have lost:  
_ _me, because you were what I loved most, and you, because I was who loved you the most.  
But of both of us, you lose more than I:  
because I may love others __as I loved you, but no one will love you as I have loved you_.

* * *

26\. Love Hurts

When Hermione finally woke, Draco was still staring out of the window. He felt numb and so lost. He just didn't know what to do. He loved Hermione so much that he felt he would explode if he couldn't tell her every day, couldn't wake up next to her, couldn't kiss her sweet lips any more, couldn't see a smile spreading on her face, couldn't hear that she loved him again.

But he also couldn't live with her secrets anymore. He thought he could, but in the end, it broke him. He wasn't her medicine to use and then throw away.

"Draco?" she whispered barely audible when she saw him standing there like an ice statue.

Her voice made him shudder; he didn't turn, though.

"What happened?" she asked when he didn't respond.

He frowned. "You don't remember?"

"Vaguely," she murmured and stepped beside him. "Did I … what did I do?"

"You cried," Draco stated matter-of-factly, still not looking at her.

"Oh." She swallowed. "Why are you mad then?" From the corner of the eye, he saw her reaching out for him, but then she dropped her arm.

"I'm not mad."

Suddenly, she grabbed his arm and turned him around. Her amber eyes were so full of concern and love that it nearly made him go back on his decision. "Look at me!" she demanded.

Very slowly, he raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"I understand that my behaviour must be … strange for you, but …" she sighed. "Please don't be mad."

"I told you I'm not," he said a little warmer and pulled her close. "I love you, Hermione. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes. And I love you," she whispered back and her hot breath gave him goose flesh. He loved how her touch felt – like she was touching him for the first time and he couldn't get enough of it. Merlin, he was royally fucked. "But something's wrong."

He shifted his weight. "I don't think … you really scared me, love."

"I'm sorry."

He knew that she really shouldn't have to apologise for her reaction. He knew you couldn't help such things. "I know. But I can't be the person you run to when there's nowhere else to go and then be treated like … the villain. I can't take it any longer, Hermione," he mumbled, taking a step back to distance himself from her.

"I promise I won't do that," she said firmly. "Draco, I –"

She was interrupted by a loud tapping noise from the window. Narcissa's owl was sitting there, a letter in the beak. Swiftly, she let the owl in.

"Ow," she hissed when it snapped at her for trying to take the letter. "I think it's for you."

Slowly, Draco took the letter and patted the owls head once. Why would his mother write him? Because of that stupid article?

"Open it!" Hermione told him.

Very carefully, he broke the seal and took out the heavy parchment. It were just a few words.

 _Draco._

 _Your mother and I demand your presence at Malfoy Manor at once. Come alone._

 _Father_

He folded the parchment and closed his eyes for a second. This was going to be ugly, he just knew it.

"Draco?" Hermione's voice invaded his mind.

He opened his eyes again. "I need to go, love."

"Your parents?" she whispered and a shadow crossed her face. "They think it's the truth."

"I don't know. Hermione, while I'm gone … I need you to think about …" Draco swallowed. "I need you to tell me, or show me, or whatever, but I … I don't want to be in a relationship with Viktor, or be compared to Viktor, or …" He shook his head, realising how incoherent his sentences were. "I love you, Hermione, and you can tell me everything. I won't judge you, or leave you, or yell at you, or whatever you think I'd do. I won't, I promise. I already know that it's bad. Just tell me, how bad." Her face went blank.

"But if you don't …" he added in a whisper. "I won't stay."

"Draco … you promised me time."

"I did. But you had time, so much time. And I feel like you're using me to heal but breaking me in the process, and I need to go before..." He paused, as if to gather his thoughts. "I can't take that look in your eyes, like I'm _a monster_ , like I would …" His voice broke. Taking a step back, he murmured, "I need to go."

Quickly, he fled the room, leaving Hermione behind. Her eyes haunted him, so lost and forlorn, like a golden abyss.

* * *

"Son. Finally," his father greeted him in his office.

"Hello father," he nodded and took a seat next to his mother. "I don't like being summoned. I'm not a child anymore.

"We're sorry, Draco," his mother apologised quickly before his father could say a word.

"So, what is this about? Please, don't tell me it's about the rubbish Skeeter wrote in the Prophet."

His mother pulled a face, but Lucius didn't even bat an eyelid. "She is not the right person for you, son. I had hoped you would finally realise that."

"But it's all lies," Draco argued.

"How would you know?" his father said dangerously calm. "What do you know about her past?"

His comment shouldn't hurt him as much as it did, but it was just too much for today.

Interpreting his silence the right way, Lucius smiled smugly. "Of course, she wouldn't tell you."

Draco snarled, "You have no evidence."

His father arrogantly cocked one eyebrow. "Here you are mistaken, son."

Agape, Draco observed how his father opened his desk drawer and pulled out a bunch of letters.

"What is that?" Draco's hands started to tremble with anger.

"Draco, honey. Just listen to your father," his mother tried to calm him.

"Read them, son. Then you'll know."

"You … _you_ were the anonymous source for Skeeter," he managed to utter, his voice husky with the anger of the betrayed.

"I knew you wouldn't listen to me. So I've made you listen," his father explained harshly. "Read them!" He held the letters out to him – a demand to take them, to listen to him, to be the obedient son.

"I don't want to. Hermione is _not_ cheating on me," Draco hissed. "You can't interfere with my relationships like that. You have – you have no right …"

"I'm your father. I know what's best for you."

Furious, Draco jumped up. "Yeah, like you knew what was best after Voldemort's rise? You don't know me, father. She's probably the love of my life, and now it's _over_ because of you!" His voice cracked. "You destroyed _everything_! _Again_!" Draco screamed, unable to keep the anger inside.

His father's face turned ashen, and Draco knew he had severely damaged their relationship and hurt him. But he didn't care.

"Draco …" his mother whispered, half-rising from her chair.

"So you stand by him, mother?" Draco asked, trying to regain his composure.

Her face twitched, but she said nothing. She needn't because Draco knew.

" _Fine_." He turned on his heels and left the office, ignoring the voice of his father calling after him.

* * *

A bursting noise violently interrupted Hermione's panicked thoughts. It was the floo. Draco was back, and he was shaking with anger. That couldn't be a good sign.

Silently, he went to the kitchen and tried to prepare tea, but his rage nearly made the kettle explode when he pointed his wand at it.

"Let me help you," Hermione offered in a small voice. Quickly, she prepared some Earl Grey and put the mug in front of him. "What happened?"

"I _hate_ my father," Draco hissed through gritted teeth.

"What did he do?"

Draco shook his head. "I shouldn't tell you. It'll upset you."

"I already know that he hates me," Hermione said lightly and took his hand, but he swiftly pulled it back. The rejection hurt more than it should, and she hated herself for it.

"He … he must've pulled some strings ... you know, he still has connections to Durmstrang as he wanted me to go to school there …"

Hermione was quick on the uptake and gasped, " _He_ is the informant!"

Draco nodded, carefully avoiding her eyes, but she detected the guilt in his features. "Sometimes, I think it's his life's purpose to destroy mine."

"He's your father; he wants what's best for you," Hermione whispered. "But he doesn't think that's me."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that I've caused you pain," Draco apologised in a hoarse voice. "I'm sorry my family …" Words failed him.

She nodded almost imperceptibly. "I know."

They were silent for a long time, quietly sipping their tea. But she knew it wouldn't stay that way. They had reached a crossroads, and she still hadn't decided which way to take.

"So will you tell me?" he finally asked, just as she had expected him to.

Her face contorted with pain. "Draco …"

"That's a _no_ then," Draco stated matter-of-factly. "I understand."

She gasped. " _No_! Please. I – I love you."

"That's not enough, Hermione," he breathed, finally looking at her. His iron gaze went right through her. "I can't stand your secrets anymore. You and Viktor had a destructive relationship, fine. But I'm not him. I'd love to be with you, to heal your soul, but I can't if you think I'm him, if he's with us in this relationship. You need to let him go."

She vehemently shook her head. "That's not true," she contradicted although she knew that she was lying to herself. She knew he hadn't deserved the secrets, he hadn't deserved the nightmares or the flashbacks, but she had somehow counted on him to ignore it.

Draco sighed, as if too tired to argue. "Then why won't you tell me?"

"I've never told anybody. Not even my parents know. It … shames me. I was so weak, so pathetic. I let myself be treated like …" Quickly, she interrupted herself. "You won't love me anymore when you know."

"Try me," he challenged her coldly. He had never spoken to her in such a way, and Hermione realised she couldn't stall him any longer. She had to make a decision.

And she did.

Swallowing loudly, she said eventually, "It doesn't make a difference. You'll go anyway. So it's better you go now." The words had left her lips before she could stop them. Hurt flickered across his face, but he quickly concealed it.

"If that's what you want."

"I'd want you to stay, but … if you can't …"

His eyes turned colder than she had ever seen them. "Let me tell you one thing before I go: You will never have a functional relationship if you don't overcome your past. I'm sorry that you can't because you were the one for me." He laughed darkly. "Funny how things turned out, isn't it? Death Eater loves War Heroine. I'm sorry that I can't be the one for you, that I can't change my past. I guess I'll always be the Death Eater in your eyes."

"No, that's not –" she tried to assure him, but he interrupted her harshly.

"Keep your lies to yourself. Goodbye, Hermione. I wish you a good life. Don't worry; I'll change my position on Monday. You won't have to work with me." His tone was bitter, his words final.

"No, Draco, no!" She hadn't quite realised yet how serious he meant it. She had to change his mind! "Don't leave me! You've promised!" she pleaded desperately although she hadn't wanted to beg. She had made a decision. She should be able to live with it.

He shook his head. "I won't have you stringing me along. Tell me now, or I'm gone. It's a self-preservation thing, you know." His last words were quiet, almost soft.

Hermione opened her mouth and closed it again. She couldn't be without him. But the alternative – to be left because of the things she had done or not done – was intolerable to her. She had to keep control. That was the only thing she had left.

"Then go," she said firmly, not trying to show the pain.

His whole posture tensed. "Okay."

Her heart sunk. He would really leave her. And all would be lost again.

It seemed to take Draco almost herculean effort to turn away. He made half a step towards the door, but suddenly froze in mid-movement. "Darn it."

Before she could react, Draco had pulled her into him and kissed her hungrily. She became instantly aware of every part of his body that was touching her as he wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her in closer. The need to touch every part of him was all consuming, and Hermione nearly lost herself in the passion of the kiss.

The temperature in the room must have risen ten degrees, and she didn't understand how her body could be so warm and yet still shivering.

Hermione wound her fingers through Draco's hair, and her body seemed to mould against his as if she were liquid, while she tried to savour the moment.

Too quickly, he freed himself from her embrace.

All she wanted to do was pull him back, stop him, but she wouldn't beg again. So she watched silently how he took his bag and left.

The closing of the door had something final, and it broke her. It broke her like she had never been broken before.

She was all alone again with nobody there to stop her from falling to pieces.

* * *

 **I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. End of story - no, I'm only joking. Much more angst to come. I hope you're prepared. Both will be in a pretty dark place in the next chapters.**

 **So, leave me your thoughts!**


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: Another chappie for you. I'm not so sure I like the last scene with Hermione, Harry, and Ron, but otherwise the chapter would have been really short. Any opinions? :)**

 **Anyway, THANK YOU so much for the many reviews I received - you guys are awesome! :***

 **Fitting right into the "break up - mood", another great quote for you, this time from a song.**

* * *

 _Don't leave me alone with me/ See, I'm afraid/ Of the darkness and my demons_  
 _And the voices, sayin' nothing's gonna be okay,_  
 _I feel it in my heart, soul, mind that I'm losing/You, me, you're abusing_  
 _Every reason I have left to live._

Under by Alex Hepburn

* * *

27\. Smoke and Bone

An empty flat welcomed Draco. He had nowhere left to go. His parents wouldn't so easily forgive him nor would he forgive his father.

 _It was over._

While his mind still couldn't quite grasp the fact that they had actually broken up, his heart already felt it. It bloody hurt. It hurt more than the break up with Astoria, more than being crucioed by Voldemort. It was heartbreak pain, and for that, there was no medicine or painkillers. How could he already miss her, crave her presence beside him?

Mechanically, he went to shower, ignoring the bunch of letters on the floor that some owl must've dropped. They had been so happy only yesterday. How things could change so quickly …

The warm water didn't help a bit. It didn't wash away the pain or the memories. It only reminded him of his past because, with every movement, the black shadow on his arm drew his attention. Maybe she could have loved him if it weren't for this. Maybe she could have trusted him if he wouldn't carry his mark. Maybe …

How he hated this blasted thing. It had sabotaged his happiness, wrecked his life, and crushed his dreams. He felt he couldn't live with it for one more second.

Although, somewhere deep inside, he knew that it was impossible to dispose of it – he had tried before, just after the war, and had failed – he needed to try again. There were spells he could try, spells he hadn't known back then.

Determined, he grabbed his wand, which had been lying on the sink, and pointed it at the ugly skull tattoo. " _Deletrius_." He had tried to make the spell as weak as possible, but it still removed half of his skin, leaving bones, muscles, and raw flesh exposed.

With a smile, Draco welcomed the pain because it must mean that the spell was working. But then, the shock hit him. Suddenly, the edges of his vision darkened and his head started spinning.

" _V-vulnera sanentur_ ," he hissed, pointing his wand once again at his left forearm. However, it didn't seem to be the right spell. The wound wasn't closing and blood was still flowing freely to the ground.

The nausea grew worse – he felt as if he was going to be sick and pass out within the next seconds. The pain was no longer bearable or numbed by the adrenaline or shock, and he doubled over. He didn't have the strength to conjure another Patronus or use the floo to call help. With shaking fingers, he pointed his wand at the owl cage and opened it with a flick of his wand.

"Get B-blaise," he choked out, grabbing the wall for support, his left arm tightly pressed against his body. Blinking, he tried to focus, but the room swam in and out of focus.

The window! It was closed. _Shit._

Sliding down the wall, he aimed his wand at the pane. " _Reducto_." The last thing he heard was glass shattering, and knew that he had succeeded; then, painless darkness claimed him.

* * *

Draco woke slowly and painfully. Bright light blinded him and his mouth was dry.

"Draco. Mate, are you awake?" a familiar voice asked.

"Bl-Blaise?" he croaked, blinking rapidly. His head hurt a little, and he felt strangely disorientated.

Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the artificial brightness around him, and he realised he was in a hospital – St. Mungos? What had happened?

The face of his friend appeared next to him. "Draco. What were you thinking?"

His thoughts were still dizzy, unclear, disjointed. He couldn't focus his memories; they where a whirl of colours and emotions. "Hermione?" he whispered hoarsely.

"She's not here. Should I call her?"Blaise offered at once.

"No," Draco answered quickly although he longed for the exact opposite. He wished she were here and would make him whole again. But she wasn't because … "I think we broke up."

Blaise stayed silent for such a long time that Draco closed his eyes again. He had to put his memories in order. If only the headaches would subside a little, he'd be able to _think_.

It seemed to take Blaise considerable effort to speak, and when he finally did, his voice was strained; aiming for casualness, but failing. "Don't let it crush you."

"I'm fine," Draco lied, his eyes still closed.

"Of course," Blaise muttered dryly. "That's why you blasted half your arm off."

Draco's eyes flew open. "Is it …?" He lifted his arm, but a thick white bandage was wrapped around it. "Is it gone?"

He couldn't stop the hope from shimmering through in his voice. It was hopeless hope. Because he knew that it couldn't have worked.

Blaise's face fell. "I'm sorry, mate. Truly. They re-grew your skin, and it just appeared."

Disappointment hit him like a train. He had known that it was impossible, but still … He was marked forever. A Death Eater for all eternity.

"Say something," Blaise pleaded lowly when Draco didn't react.

"I'm fine. You don't need to stay," Draco told him flatly, but avoiding his eyes because Blaise might detect the despair in them. "I'll be out of here soon."

Instead of leaving, Blaise stepped closer, reaching for Draco's hand but stopping himself in the last second. "Draco. Please, don't … don't shut me out. I don't want you to fall apart, like after the war."

Draco gritted his teeth. The memory was painful, and he was in enough pain already. "I said I'm fine!" he hissed through clenched teeth. "Bugger off!"

Blaise opened his mouth, hesitated, and closed it again. Indecisively, he shifted his weight, seemingly pondering the best course of action. But after another one of Draco's hostile glares, his face went blank; he turned on his heels and left.

As soon as the door snapped shut, all of Draco's anger evaporated, leaving him hollow inside. He turned his head to the window, realising with satisfaction that it was still raining. This time, though, the rain didn't numb his pain. Waves of frustration, disappointment, grief, and heartache crashed over him and pulled him under.

* * *

When Hermione went to her office on Monday morning, neither any Memos nor Draco himself appeared. It seemed he kept his promise to stay away. She tried to convince herself that it was better this way because, if she saw him, she would fall to her knees and beg him not to leave, and she couldn't have that. She was a strong, independent woman. She didn't need a man in her life to be happy.

But still – she missed him like hell.

She hadn't slept or eaten since Saturday night. She hadn't wanted to be affected like this, but there was nothing she could do. The pain was as sharp as razor blades, and absolutely nothing was able to numb it.

Just before lunch, Harry appeared, just as she knew he would. Since she had sealed off her floo and hadn't answered his letters or the door, he must have been worried sick. But she hadn't wanted to face him and tell him how she'd failed in a relationship once more.

"Hermione, I'm so sorry. I've just heard about Draco –" he exclaimed, even before the door closed behind him.

Automatically, she jumped up. "Heard what?" she asked, startled. How could anybody already know?

"He's in St. Mungo's," Harry replied, frowning.

Iron clasps enclosed her chest, making it nearly impossible for her to breath. "What? What happened?" she gasped, her fingers gripping the edge of the table, as if to support herself.

"I don't know. But …" He tilted his head to one side and watched her with narrowed eyes. "I thought _you_ knew."

Hermione turned even paler. "We're … we're not …" Her voice faltered miserably. She couldn't say it yet, but Harry understood, as he always did.

Within in the blink of an eye, he was at her side, hugging her. "I'm so sorry, Hermione," he breathed into her hair.

She shrugged it off and stepped back to put some space between them. She didn't want his sympathy. "It's okay. It's better this way." Wasn't it?

"You don't honestly believe that, do you?" Harry asked sternly, his green eyes x-raying her.

Hermione turned and stared into the flames of her fireplace. No, she didn't, not really. But she would stand by her decision. Still … she needed to make sure that he was okay. "So, can I – do you think, I should visit him?" she murmured, without looking at him.

"Yes," Harry answered firmly. He hadn't hesitated for even a split-second. Did that mean he really believed it or did he just say it without thinking?

"But I don't think he wants to see me."

Harry sighed audibly. "Hermione. Let Draco decide that."

That sounded logical enough. She liked logic but not in this case. Now, emotions ruled her decision, and she definitely wouldn't be able to survive the anger, and pain, and hate in his eyes.

"Harry?" she whispered, turning back to him in a sudden movement. "Why – why am I such a failure in relationships?"

His face turned soft. "You're not a failure, Mione," he reassured her. "But, if you want him back, you need to tell him."

Stubbornly, Hermione gritted her teeth. "I don't want to come begging."

Before Harry could answer, the door banged open and a redhead stormed into her office, interrupting their conversation.

"Ron?" she asked incredulously.

Harry spun around and stared at his friend, who blushed furiously. Ron's eyes darted between them; then he finally asked, "Hermione? I wanted to ask if we could … talk." He made a tentative step towards her, smiling sheepishly. "May I buy you lunch?" There was this hopeful note in his voice that made her throat tight.

Speechless, she stared at him. She vaguely remembered him being there on Saturday, but then, she had thought it had been a vision or something since it couldn't have been true.

Ron seemed to feel the need to fill the silence that stretched between them and mumbled, "I apologise for my behaviour – I'm so sorry. Really. I simply want my friend back." He grinned lopsidedly, just like he had smiled when he had returned to them in the Forest of Dean.

Finally, Hermione found her tongue. "Are you here because of that or because Draco and I are no longer a thing?" she asked bitterly.

Ron's eyes grew big. "You … broke up?"

"You were there, weren't you? You know what happened. So don't be surprised," she snarled more forcefully than she had intended to.

"He left you because of that?" the redhead uttered, outraged, heat rising to his face.

"No, you idiot! I _made_ him leave." A sob broke out of her chest, and she turned to hide her face. The razor blades were back, cutting into her heart. "Out! Both of you!" she cried, her voice cracking. Hermione heard cautious steps approaching behind her, and she braced herself for their compassionate words. She didn't want to hear them. She wished Harry and Ron would just leave; but being her best friends, of course, they wouldn't.

A warm hand landed on her shoulder. "Hermione. We're your friends," Harry said softly and turned her back around.

"We're not going anywhere. You need us," Ron added, his deep blue eyes filled with worry.

Just what she had expected them to say. But it somehow still felt good to hear the words. Another strangled sob escaped her lips, and she realised – although she didn't want to admit it – that Ron was right. She needed her friends.

"That doesn't mean I've forgiven you, Ronald," she mumbled, but let him hug her, nevertheless.

* * *

 **So, what do you think? Too much unnecessary drama?**

 **Please review!**


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: I see your opinions are quite mixed regarding drama. I'm afraid you'll have to suffer through some more before the end. At least, this chapter is a step in the right direction. :P**

 **And before I forget: Thank you to my beta, Cecelia Everhart. And THANK YOU to everyone who reviewed and favourited! (** Purplehedgehog13: I'm glad it let you review this time. Sherlock H. Winchester: I just have to say it again to you personally - Thank you for reviewing every single one of my chapters!)

* * *

28\. Heal me, I'm Heartsick

After work, Hermione contemplated visiting Draco. Surely, he would only throw her out, wouldn't he? The problem was she wasn't sure she could handle that. But worry gnawed at her. What if he was hurt badly? What if he was dying for some reason? Maybe he'd had a terrible accident and would never be able to walk again! Nothing but horror scenarios flashed through her head.

If she couldn't see him herself, she had to ask somebody who had probably visited him…

Blaise!

He seemed to be Draco's best friend. _So_ , Hermione concluded, _he would know what had happened_. Without a moment's hesitation, she apparated to his Family's Manor.

A house elf answered the door and let her in. She was brought to the sitting room and waited there with a cup of tea, which the elf had politely served her. Blaise, however, was a long time in coming. Eventually, he opened the door but didn't enter, just lingered at the door frame.

"What do you want?" he asked coldly.

Quickly, she jumped up. "Blaise. I'm sorry to intrude, but … I heard Draco's in St. Mungo's. What happened?"

Blaise's eyes narrowed. Anger radiated off him – she could feel it from here. "Why do you care?" he barked.

His remark hurt her more than it should. "I –" She closed her eyes. "This was a stupid idea. I'm leaving." He apparently hated her as well; there was no reason to stay.

"No." Blaise barred her way with his body, and she stepped back. "Don't. I was rude," he murmured conciliatorily. He still seemed to be angry, but now he tried to keep it in check.

Cautiously, she sat back down on the sofa, still watching him closely. "Will you tell me then?"

Blaise sighed and took a seat opposite of her. "So, you _do_ care?"

"Of course, I bloody care. Just because we broke up, doesn't mean I'm a heartless bitch who doesn't love him anymore." She bit her lip because she had revealed too much, but Blaise only smiled lopsidedly.

"Then, why did you break up?"

She had expected this question, but it still threw her off balance. Tightening her hands around her tea cup, she choked out, "I can't speak about it yet. Just tell me if he's fine."

"He's heartbroken, that's what he is," Blaise replied sharply. "He tried to remove the Dark Mark from his arm and hurt himself. Nearly froze to death."

"He – what?" Hermione shrieked. Oh Merlin, that was her fault. He did it because of her. "It's my fault, isn't it?"

Blaise bit his lip. All anger seemed to have left him. "Partly. I don't know what you said or did that he feels like he needs to prove that he's not a Death Eater anymore by removing his Dark Mark. But I can't blame you for Draco's own mistakes." He glanced carefully at her. "Did he tell you about … after the war?"

It was painfully clear to Hermione why Draco thought himself a Death Eater, a monster. She had treated him like one. If she could only turn back time. Frowning, she realised that Blaise waited for an answer. "He just said that he helped to rebuild Hogwarts and told me about his last year. But I don't understand why this is relevant."

"Of course, you don't. The thing is … he did it before. It was _awful_." Blaise's voice cracked and he quickly looked down to his own cup of tea. When he continued, he sounded husky. "I should've been a better friend, but at that time I didn't care. My own problems were enough to handle." At last, he met her gaze. His sombre eyes were pleading. "He needs you, Hermione. Please. I'm begging you to mend things with him. I don't care what you did, just … make it up to him."

She shook her head. "I can't."

"Why?"

"He wants me to tell him about Viktor, but … if I do, I'll be vulnerable and … I don't want to be that way again. He won't love me anymore, and I can't see that happening. It won't do him any good," she explained, carefully choosing her words. Blaise words had shaken her. He _begged_ her to go back to him. Something she'd never expected.

"You think he's going to abuse that vulnerability," Blaise stated matter-of-factly.

"No … I don't know. I simply don't know, Blaise." She wrung her hands. "I'm sorry I failed … I – I failed him." Why did she tell him that? Somehow, the Slytherin was able to pull the truth out of her like a magnet.

"You didn't, Hermione!" Blaise contradicted. "You were the best –"

She quickly interrupted him before he could say what she thought he'd say, "That doesn't change anything. I can't tell him."

"You can tell me for practise." A smiled played across his lips, like it was only a joke, but his eyes were deadly serious.

She cringed. Tell _Blaise_? She didn't even know him. No way. But she could use it to get information out of him. "Tell me about Draco's past and I'll try – that's all I can promise," she said finally.

Blaise scrutinised her, as if looking for a lie, but he still nodded in agreement. "Fair enough." He shifted his weight and seemed to prepare himself for what he was about to say. "I won't tell you everything because that's his job, just the essentials."

She nodded silently. Her guts clenched in expectation.

"Well, you know he had to help rebuild Hogwarts as part of his sentence, but without a wand. Harry had used his old one, and the ministry didn't allow him a new one until the start of term."

"That was … cruel." Hermione winced. She knew that the ministry had wanted to show strength; she shouldn't be so surprised.

"Draco never had to work before, especially never physically…" Blaise shrugged. "The other people there liked to mess him about; there were other Death Eaters who blamed him for defecting, and people from your side who blamed him for being a Death Eater. Once, they locked him into a cavity in a wall, which used to be a secret passage. He was only found after Narcissa went berserk …" His voice trailed away, his eyes still lingering in the past.

"How long was he in there?" Hermione gasped.

"About two days. It … freaked him out. He was allowed to stay at home for a few days. There, he locked himself away and secretly tried to cut out the Dark Mark with a knife. The Muggle-way." Blaise winced. "His parents found him just in time. I think it was the first time Lucius has ever regretted his decisions," Blaise remarked bitterly. "The Malfoys tried to keep it a secret of course, and Draco somehow managed to keep going. I don't know how. I don't know how he even survived Hogwarts."

Hermione blinked. Finally, she could understand some more about the darkness inside of him, more about his self-hatred. "I – I didn't know."

Blaise smiled sadly. "I don't think he ever quite got over it. He used to be the bully not the bullied one. He didn't know how it was to be hated like this, so fiercely, so purely, so burningly. It was hard to come to terms that something he used to be proud of, at least at the beginning, would be his worst nightmare, a justification to cause him pain."

Hermione swallowed hard. That was the reason he had reacted so intensely to her behaviour. He believed that his Dark Mark destroyed their relationship, but it was _her_. _She_ always destroyed everything.

With crystal clarity, she suddenly realised that she needed to tell him, so he could blame her and not himself. She couldn't take him suffering any more than he already did. He needed to know that there was nothing wrong with him or with the Dark Mark. It was just her inability to have a healthy relationship.

"Thank you for telling me," she mumbled after a long pause. "I can understand it now."

"Good," Blaise nodded. "Will you tell _me_ now?"

Why not? A trade was a trade. It wasn't too hard. She would just need to utter a few words. It didn't matter. It was only Blaise; he wouldn't care. "I …" Her lips trembled. "I can't. But I'll show him. He can tell you."

"Why? Why are you so afraid, so ashamed?" Blaise's gaze scrutinised her. "Did you cheat on Viktor?"

"He thought that, but I didn't. It was just in his head."

Blaise leaned forward. "Then, _what_ happened?"

* * *

On Monday night, Draco was released, but he decided to stay home for the rest of the week. He couldn't face the world yet. He spent his Tuesday in self-pity and Firewhiskey.

In the evening, a familiar short-eared owl knocked at his window. Nyx.

He took the letter from her, but then threw it carelessly on the table. He didn't care what Hermione had to say. It was too late. She had wanted him to leave, so he had left.

Wednesday and Thursday were a blur. Alcohol numbed his agony, so he never stopped drinking. He couldn't stand his own thoughts or the throbbing pain in his chest like an open wound.

On Saturday, his thoughts were clear for the first time in this week. His booze was empty. He craved … he didn't know what – Hermione? Painkillers? More booze? All of that?

But the despair made him open the letter. Maybe he had thought that words she had written could ease his pain; maybe he just hoped she hadn't given up on him. He hadn't talked to anybody in days, not even to Blaise. He couldn't bear the presence of people; he wanted the loneliness although he knew that it only increased the pain, like loneliness always did.

Carefully, he broke the seal and unfolded the letter. A small, glittering phial fell into his shaking hands. Frowning, he put it aside and focused on the letter. Quickly, his eyes glided over the handwritten lines.

 _Dear Draco,_

 _I hope this finds you well. I'm sorry that my actions provoked you to hurt yourself. If I had known, I wouldn't have let it come to that._

 _I'm writing this letter to explain some things – I have enclosed a phial with my memories. Harry allowed you to use his Pensieve at all times. Please, feel free to use it._

 _Hopefully this will take the guilt off you for I was never scared of you personally. You are neither a monster nor a Death Eater._

He stopped and looked up. This was rubbish. Of course, she'd been scared of him. Why did she do this to him? Why did she try to make him feel better? She had wanted him to leave, hadn't she? He crumpled the letter up into a ball and threw it aside. How could she be so detached? Hadn't the break up affected her?

He definitely needed more Firewhiskey. Sighing, he left the apartment, the scrunched up letter lay, like forgotten, on the floor.

However, when he came back later, several bottles of _Odgen's Finest_ in a bag, the blasted letter still hadn't left his mind; neither had the phial with her memories. But he wasn't ready yet to watch them.

He was still curious, though, what else she had written. More senseless apologies? More lies? More about her secret? Groaning, he gave into the temptation and picked up the parchment, sipping some Whiskey at the same time.

It went on as following:

 _However, I haven't written this, so you would come back. I haven't written this, so you would forgive me. There is no ulterior motive. I just want you to know that it was never your fault._

 _Please, don't think badly of me after you have seen this. But I understand if you don't wish to see me again._

He laughed mirthlessly. Of course, she didn't want him to come back. But somehow, the humbleness of her letter got to him. What if she felt like he did? Like someone had ripped out his heart and dismembered it. Not even his dark self could deny that he still loved her and that he would gladly go back to her, if it still were possible.

But it wasn't. There was something broken between them.

He still read on, though.

 _I hope you will still love me. I hope we can mend things (because I miss you terribly). But take your time, I can wait. Just tell me how you have decided._

 _Draco, I love you. I know it is not enough – I'm not enough – but I do love you._

 _Don't try to remove the Dark Mark again! I couldn't bear it if you hurt yourself again._

 _Take care,_

 _Hermione_

Now she was the one indulging in self-hatred because for him she _was_ enough.

She _did_ say she missed him, though. She said she loved him. Why would she do that? Empty phrases? Automatically, his eyes wandered to the phial on the desk. He shouldn't watch it.

He shouldn't want to watch it.

Things were over, and this little phial wouldn't be able to heal what was broken.

But – hadn't he promised to try? He owed it to her. After he had pushed so hard for this – how could he ignore it just because it didn't feel right to watch her memories? He _needed_ to know.

Taking another sip of Firewhiskey, he grabbed the phial and flooed to Harry's office.

* * *

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter and the background story I've given Draco.**

 **The next chapter will consist of Hermione's memories. I guess I'll have to change the rating because it'll include some violence, nothing too graphic, though. I'm really unfamiliar with the American rating system. Do you think I should change it to be on the safe side?**

 **If you review eagerly, I might be convinced to update tomorrow! :P**


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: First of all, I wanted to thank you for the many reviews. You've earned this chapter! I hope it lives up to your expectations.**

 **As you can imagine, it was extremely difficult to write. Firstly, because of the topic, secondly, because I wanted it to be realistic and not too out of character, and thirdly, since it's not my mother tongue; I can't weave the words as well as I'd like to. So please forgive me if some of it sounds awkward and stiff.**

 **So, WARNING, there'll be some** ** _violence_** **in this chapter. (If you don't want to read that, skip the part in _italics._ ) **

**Before we proceed to the action, a quote from the song that inspired me to write this chapter and this story:**

* * *

 _It's the rage that's the culprit, it controls you both/[…] Maybe that's what happens  
when a tornado meets a volcano/All I know is I love you too much, to walk away now_  
 _Come inside, pick up your bags off the sidewalk [...]_  
 _Next time I'm pissed, I'll aim my fist at the dry wall/ Next time, there will be no next time_  
 _I apologize even though I know it's lies [...]/ If she ever tries to fucking leave again_  
 _I'm a tie her to the bed and set this house on fire_

 _Love the way you lie_ by Eminem feat. Rihanna

* * *

29\. Blood and Starlight

It only took a few seconds, and Draco entered the memory.

 _He suddenly found himself in a large, moonlit apartment. The stars twinkled on the clear night sky, which could be seen through the wide glass doors leading to a balcony. The gleam of the moon painted silver patterns on the expensive carpet. His knowing eye recognised at once how exquisitely furnished this apartment was and what money was behind it. Viktor apparently liked to spend the money he earned as a Quidditch player. Before he could look around for longer, a familiar figure stepped out of the fireplace._

 _Hermione._

 _She seemed a lot younger although it was probably only one or two years in the past. She was wearing a fancy dress, having been at a party of some sort. Instantly, she took her shoes off to make no noise because it seemed very late. On tiptoes, she left the living room but stopped when she saw light in the kitchen._

 _"_ _Vik?" she asked quietly. "You're still up?"_

 _Smiling, she entered the kitchen and froze. Her husband was sitting at the table, a nearly empty bottle of vodka in front of him. "You're late, sweetheart," he slurred, apparently completely wasted. So Draco had been right with his assumption. Viktor had been an alcoholic._

 _"_ _Sorry. I was just having such a great time with Harry and the others. Little Jamie is so cute," she answered lightly, ignoring the facts in front of her. "Why didn't you join us?"_

 _Viktor grunted und poured himself another shot of vodka, only to drain it in the next second._

 _"_ _I'm going to bed. Are you coming?" Hermione finally asked when he continued to ignore her._

 _"_ _Don't order me around," Viktor bellowed, and Hermione flinched._

 _"_ _I wasn't."Abruptly, she left the room and went to the bedroom and the neighbouring bathroom to change._

 _Suddenly, Viktor appeared. "So, little Jamie was cute, mhm?"_

 _"_ _Yeah," Hermione answered, shrugging, and put some cream on her hands and face._

 _"_ _Why don't we have a little Jamie then, sweetheart?"_

 _Hermione winced. "I – I don't … you're drunk. We talk when you've sobered up."_

 _"_ _I told you not to boss me around all the time," Viktor snarled, swaying a little._

 _"_ _Vik. Baby, just let it go for tonight." Hermione smiled weakly and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek before disappearing into the bathroom again. When she came back in her night gown, Viktor stood still there, glaring at her._

 _"_ _So, what have you been doing at that party?"_

 _She shrugged as if she hadn't heard the cold, dangerous undertone in his voice. "We just talked, had some drinks … you know."_

 _"_ _No, I don't," Viktor hissed. "Maybe the reason we don't have children is that you're doing it with your ex."_

 _"_ _What?" Hermione spun around. It seemed to be the first time he brought this up._

 _"_ _You heard me all right! Or is it Potter – the Chosen One? Or both of them?"_

 _"_ _I won't listen to this," Hermione huffed. "You are drunk, Viktor."_

 _"_ _So I'm right? You're fucking them, you little bitch?" Viktor spat right in her face._

 _Faster than Draco could see, Hermione had drawn back her hand and slapped her husband in a familiar move, just like she had slapped Draco in third year. "Don't you dare to ever call me that again, drunk or not!" she threatened but immediately realised what she had done and backed off._

 _Viktor just stared at her for half a second; then Draco watched how rage washed through him like lava through an up until now sleeping volcano. His hands started to tremble, his jaw set._

 _"_ _I'm sorry, Vik," Hermione apologised although that bloody husband of hers should be the one apologising._

 _"_ _Did you just_ slap me _?" Viktor asked dangerously low, and then, the volcano erupted. He launched himself at her unsuspecting figure, hitting her with the back of his hand, so she was thrown against the closet and tumbled to the floor._

 _Draco had wanted to throw himself between them, to hex Viktor, to do anything to stop it, but he couldn't. It was just a memory – there was nothing he could do. It made him sick, like his insides were turned inside out, to feel so helpless, to see Hermione hurt._

 _But his girlfriend was strong, she stood up, not one tear in her eyes. "Satisfied now?" she asked drily. Viktor was still vibrating with wrath, so why did she provoke him further?_

 _"_ _And no, I don't cheat on you. Now out of this room, or I curse you!" She pointed at the door._

 _Draco remembered that she had left her wand in the hallway, but Viktor was probably too drunk to notice. At least, he had the sense to back down and obey._

 _"_ _Fine," he replied venomously. "But don't think you haven't deserved this."_

 _After Viktor had left the room, Hermione crumbled into a heap on the floor, crying uncontrollably. Before Draco could attempt to do anything – however in vain – the memory vanished and was replaced by another._

 _Some time must have passed because it was winter now. She was wearing a thick cloak and a self-made scarf. Little snowflakes had been caught by her hair and now decorated it like diamond droplets. Her face was flushed with cold. She looked adorable; so pretty that Draco's heart missed a beat._

 _"_ _Where have you been?" Draco heard Viktor's hard voice call._

 _Hermione winced. "I've told you. I went with Ginny to Diagon Alley."_

 _"_ _Was Harry there?"_

 _"_ _No," she called back, putting away her cloak. "He had this Quidditch match with guys from the office."_

 _All of a sudden, Viktor appeared. "You're a liar, Hermione."_

 _She paled. "What are you talking about?"_

 _"_ _I was fed up with your excuses and lies, my dear wife, so I followed you."_

 _"_ _You what?" she asked, her voice skipping a few octaves. She appeared more scandalised than scared._

 _"_ _There was no bloody Quidditch match and no Ginny, only you and Potter at the bloody joke shop. What were you doing there?"_

 _"_ _N-nothing. You were just always so angry if I told you I was meeting up with Harry and Ron that …"_

 _"_ _You lied," Viktor stated, homing in on her like a predator on its prey. "I've found your little love nest."_

 _"_ _Stop being paranoid, Vik," Hermione tried to brush off his accusations._

 _"_ _So why aren't you pregnant then, my cheating little wife?" he roared and pushed her against the door. "You will not meet them again, do you hear me?"_

 _"_ _You can't order me anything. I'm not your possession," Hermione retaliated and felt for her wand._

 _"_ _You are my wife if you've forgotten, and I can do as I please," Viktor hissed, snatching her wand right out of her pocket and throwing it across the room. Then, he pushed her hard against the door. "You are such a failure, do you hear me?"_

 _"_ _Vik …"_

 _He pushed her again. "Promise me you won't see them again!"_

 _"_ No _!" Draco screamed when Viktor threw her against one of the shelves with all his force as a Quidditch player. She stumbled and fell to the floor, some of the books and items that had been lying on the shelves fell atop of her._

 _"_ _Promise!" he screamed, hovering over her, ready to manhandle her again._

 _She looked at his face for a split-second – the shock still obvious on her features – and Draco could see how she realised that this fight was lost. She had no wand and nothing to fight for; besides, Krum was much stronger._

 _"_ _I – I'm sorry, Viktor," she gave in. His brave girlfriend, who had resisted torture, broke right there and then. "I won't see them again."_

 _"_ _Good," Viktor grunted and left the apartment with a slam of the door._

 _Draco remembered with dread what Harry had told him – that she used to sneak out to visit them. So she hadn't given in completely. But Draco also knew that Viktor had found out about it. He didn't need to see more. He already understood. To be honest, he didn't want to_ see _her getting hurt even more although he already knew it had happened._

 _But Hermione wasn't that merciful. Another memory wiped out the shaking woman on the ground and replaced it with a dimly lit kitchen._

 _Hermione was cooking. She appeared thinner and paler; however, not much time seemed to have passed, maybe a month or two. Shadows painted dark bruises on the light skin of her arms, and Draco knew that things had changed for the worse. Viktor had found out. She wouldn't show him every fight, just the things that explained her behaviour towards him._

 _Her suddenly fragile hands started shaking when she heard the front door opening. "Hi, Vik," she called. "How was it? I've made you dinner."_

 _Viktor stomped into the room and went right for the vodka on the cupboard. "Bloody bastards didn't accept me. Told me just the same as the guy from the Auror's office." With a flick of his wand, he lightened the gloomy kitchen, and Draco realised that it weren't only shadows on her arms but real finger-shaped bruises._

 _Just as Viktor passed, he drew back his fist and hit him hard._

 _Draco's hand flew through Krum's face as if he was made out of air. Well, technically, he was. Neither of them was really there, mere ghosts, shadows of a memory._

 _Draco snarled angrily. It wasn't even half as satisfying to hit somebody if that person didn't feel it._

 _Meanwhile, the conversation went on. "But you were under the Imperius at that time," Hermione said, shaking her head. "Do you want me to talk to Har–"_

 _"_ _No," Viktor snapped and took a swig of the liquor. "They also told me they heard rumours about my drinking habits, and they had no use for an alcoholic." So Krum was trying to find a job, Draco concluded, still breathing heavily._

 _Hermione froze at his words._

 _"_ _But I wouldn't be drinking if my Quidditch season would've gone better," the Bulgarian continued slowly, sitting down at the table. "And my Quidditch season would've gone better if I hadn't been concerned all the time about my cheating wife. So, technically, it's your fault."_

 _"_ _I've made you stuffed bell peppers," Hermione tried to change the topic, setting the table. Without warning, Viktor's hand shot forward, grabbing her wrist._

 _"_ _Did you hear me?"_

 _"_ _Yes," she whimpered, her face contorted by pain. "I'm sorry, darling."_

 _He released her and waited for her to put the dinner on the table, constantly sipping from the bottle. She made him a plate and turned to prepare her own. Eventually, he tried the food and stiffened. "You're at home the whole afternoon and you don't manage to cook something edible?" he growled deep in his throat, like an angry bear._

 _Hermione flinched and accidently let her own plate slip though her hands. It crashed on the floor with a splintering noise. "I- I'm sorry, Vik. I've told you, I needed to prepare some papers for work." Hastily, she tried to clean up the shards with her bare hands, cutting herself in the process._

 _Slowly, Draco understood where her flashback had come from. The noise, the cut in her fingers, the accusations… and he had reproached her for it._

 _"_ _And I've told you that you shouldn't work, like a proper wife," her husband barked, jumping up. "Why do I have to tell you this over and over again? If you were a proper wife…" Breathing heavily, he pushed Hermione back on the floor when she tried to stand up. She winced, landing on some sharp splinters._

 _"_ _I really try, Vik," she assured him, trembling. "I'm sorry."_

 _He didn't even listen to her, just went on with his rant. "But you're not. You're such a failure, Hermione. You can't cook! You're not pregnant! You never do what you're told! You're not even beautiful!" he listed. "No one will ever date you because of that. Potter and Weasley just gave you pity fucks since they know how_ pathetic _,_ useless _,_ ugly _, and_ bossy _you are. Now clean this mess up or I forget myself."_

 _His cruel voice still lingered in the air when the memory changed. It was the bedroom again._

 _Hermione hastily packed some things into a bag, constantly looking over her shoulder and flinching with every noise. Draco could detect fresh bruises on her neck and her left wrist, the clothes probably disguised some more. That bloody bastard. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to kill him. It was like an ache inside of him that could only be soothed by hurting a particular someone._

 _With the bag over her shoulder, she ran to the front door and opened it. Right there stood Viktor, just about to place the key into the key hole._

 _"_ _Hermione?" he asked surprised. Immediately, he realised what she was about to do and barred her way. With his massive body, he forced her to step back into the room. "What is this?"_

 _"_ _I'm leaving you," Hermione exclaimed, her wand in her hand. "And you're not stopping me."_

 _"_ _You can't leave me. Nobody'll love you like I did. You'll be alone forever," he stated, like it were obvious facts. His hands were clenched into fists, though, betraying his seemingly nonchalant behaviour. Sleeping volcano, again._

 _"_ _Run, Hermione!" Draco begged, although he knew she didn't hear him._

 _"_ _I don't care. If this is love, then I rather forgo it." She turned to head to the floo, but she wasn't fast enough. He grabbed her bruised wrist, trying to pull her back, and she screamed in pain._

 _"_ _Who do you think you are? You're not going to leave me!" Viktor raged at her._

 _"_ _Watch me!" she snapped and aimed her wand at him. "_ Relashio _."_

 _Viktor stumbled back but caught himself quickly. "_ Stupefy _," he countered._

 _Hermione blocked the spell and tried to reach the fireplace going backwards. "_ Expelliarmus _."_

 _Viktor dodged the spell, laughing mirthlessly. "Really, sweetheart? That's all you got?" He shot a nonverbal curse at her. She blocked it easily again, but then, she tripped backwards over the carpet in front of the fireplace, hitting her head hard on the mantelpiece._

 _"_ Expelliarmus _."_

 _With that, Hermione was without a wand. Sluggishly, she tried to grab some floo powder, but before she could step into the flames, Viktor was there and pulled her back._

 _"_ _I've told you, you won't leave me!" Forcefully, he smashed her head against the bricks of the fireplace, and Draco heard something crack. The sound made him gag. Why did she have to be so cold and make him watch this?_

 _He had deserved it, though. He had_ wanted _to know. As much as he wished to close his eyes and put his hands over his ears, he couldn't. He couldn't even stop it from happening. Being held captive in a dark cavity, was nothing compared to this. He couldn't be more helpless._

 _He had to watch him punch her, like she was a puppet, and yell at her. Draco felt that he'd deserved this punishment for pushing her, for threatening her, for leaving her._

 _"_ _I'll teach you not to leave me," Viktor roared, blind with rage, and hurled her across the room. She fell right into the glass table, and another sickening crack echoed through the room._

 _"_ _No!" Draco nearly lost it. Hard sobs broke out of his chest, and he fell to his knees, loudly pleading Viktor to stop although he knew it was just a memory._

 _The surroundings suddenly became blurred, and Draco realised she was losing consciousness. Then it was all gone. Hermione had blacked out._

 _Draco was still on the floor when the scenery changed. He was dimly aware that they were in a hospital now and that Daphne was here, too. His main focus lay on the broken girl on the bed. Hermione. He could barely stand to look at her, but he also couldn't look away. How did she even survive that ordeal?_

 _He struggled to his feet and wanted to run to her, but in the middle of his movement, the memory ended._

She didn't show him more, and he didn't need to know for now. This explained everything – every little gesture, every look, every nightmare.

Somehow she must've managed to escape, probably with Harry's and Weasley's help. That's why they felt so bloody guilty. Guilty as he was now. No, _guilty_ wasn't even close at describing how he felt. So many different kinds of pain.

With a strong shove Harry's neatly ordered papers tumbled to the floor, next his chair crashed into the wall on the opposite side of the room. Draco thrashed about until there was nothing left for him to break and smash. It felt good to demolish Potter's office. He could pretend the things that broke were Krum's bones and the water on the floor was his blood.

He didn't feel the pain in his knuckles or the cuts from the flower vase. He felt nothing, nothing but rage and helplessness.

* * *

 **I hope you "enjoyed" this chapter. Hermione's motivations will be explained in later chapters. I hope I was able to portray Viktor's rage and Draco's anguish adequately.**

 **As usual, please tell me what you think!**


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: Hello, my dear readers, thank you so much for your reviews!**

 **For your orientation: The first part of the chapter happens right after Draco saw Hermione's memories.**

* * *

30\. Gods and Monsters

"Daphne?" Draco called loudly after he had stumbled like drunken out of her fireplace. He didn't care what time it was. Merlin, he wasn't even quite sure which day it was anymore. " _DAPHNE_!"

"Bloody hell! What do you want, Malfoy?" Daphne screamed back, entering through a neighbouring door. As soon as she spotted him, though, she froze. Immediately, the doctor inside of her gained the upper hand, and she caught him before he could fall to the floor, putting him safely on the couch.

"What happened? Did you get into a fight?" She pulled a face. "And how much did you drink?"

He wasn't sure how he looked to have evoked this reaction. It was incredibly hard to concentrate on her question. How much had he … drunk? He couldn't remember. Hell, he hadn't been doing anything else than drinking lately – so maybe three bottles of Firewhiskey, four?

Suddenly, he groaned in pain.

"Nothing broken, thank Merlin," Daphne muttered and pointed her wand at his other hand. He hadn't even realised that she had drawn it. "What happened to your face?"

His face? He frowned. "I – I don't … I don't …"

Daphne said nothing, just used her wand to heal the minor injuries. He had no memory of receiving them. Maybe something had splintered and cut him. Anyway, he hadn't felt it. He still didn't feel anything. His senses seemed numbed. Even Daphne's voice was muffled and his surroundings fuzzy, like he was underwater.

"… did you do?" Her voice reached him from somewhere far away.

"I know," he whispered. "Daphne, I know."

The black-haired witch tensed, catching onto his meaning at once, but didn't stop working. She must be an excellent doctor. "Good," was all she said, or maybe he just couldn't hear it.

But he had an important question. So important. He needed to focus. _Come on, Draco, try harder!_

"Tell me … please!" he begged. "What … were her injuries?"

Daphne swallowed. "I don't think that's helpful in your condition. You don't need to punish yourself with it."

"I … I don't c-care … I still want …. I need t-to know. _Please_."His voice was raw and husky, breaking between words.

"Here you are. As good as new," Daphne said quickly and stood up. No, she couldn't leave!

Sluggishly, he grabbed her arm. " _Please_. You r-remember … don't you?" His last words were barely audible. She was right. Why did he do this to himself?

Her blue eyes x-rayed him. "How could I ever forget?" Very slowly she sat back down. "It was dreadful."

"I- I need to know," he repeated as firm as he could. _Get a grip on yourself, Draco!_

She sighed. "Why?" He could read in her eyes that she felt pity for him. Since when didn't she enjoy seeing him suffer?

"Daphne, please. Just tell me."

She inhaled deeply, trying to prepare herself. It didn't seem to work as her voice was badly shaking when she started enumerating, "A fractured skull, a broken nose, swollen eyes, a dislocated jaw, a broken collarbone, two broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, a broken wrist, broken fingers, bruises … _everywhere_ , internal injuries … do you need me to go on?"

Draco shook his head. "How did she survive?" A real sob broke from his lips. He didn't want to cry in front of Daphne, but there was no stopping it.

"She's a strong one," Daphne half smiled.

Suddenly, he felt very sick. Without another word, he ran to the bathroom and threw up.

"Shh," Daphne whispered soothingly behind him. Hang on a moment – was she trying to _comfort_ him? The object of all her hate? But he definitely felt her hand on his shoulder. Somehow, he couldn't stop retching even if there was nothing left in his empty stomach. It made him so sick. He wanted nothing more than to hurt someone, to hurt himself for hurting her. Daphne should put him in Azkaban and not comfort him.

"Here, drink this," she whispered all of a sudden and put a glass to his lips. He had no choice but to swallow.

The taste was familiar. "Daphne – no. I don't want to slee–"

But he was already under.

* * *

A week passed, then another, and Draco still hadn't answered Hermione's letter. In fact, she hadn't had any sign of life from him. He hadn't come back to work, and not even Blaise knew where he was. Not that she cared. She knew what it meant.

It would have only taken a note: _Hermione, I don't want to see you ever again._

Nothing more.

But, apparently, he hadn't even the decency to write her. Coward!

It hurt of course, but somehow, she had expected it. At least, she hadn't told him her story in person and had spared herself the pain of having to watch him falling out of love with her.

Hermione gave herself one day to sink into self pity, but then she needed to move on. She couldn't let Draco get her down again, but it was easier said than done. She didn't know how to sleep, or to eat, or to read. Everything reminded her of him. She tried to throw out the Earl Grey, his T-shirts, the books she had lend him, but in the end, after she had packed everything and was about to throw it away, she couldn't bring herself to do it.

Hermione missed his scent, his presence, even his tea. Why did it feel like he had died? Why did it feel like _she_ had died? She didn't want to feel this way.

She wouldn't allow him to get her down. She would simply live on as she had before him. Easier said than done again.

One sleepless night a few days later, Hermione realised that Draco had been right with one thing. She needed to get over her past; she needed to confront it. Suddenly, it was as clear as day:

She needed to see Viktor.

After that, she could go on with her life. At least, that was what she hoped. And with that, Hermione had her mind set on it. Without hesitating, she applied for a few days of holidays at the ministry and made secret enquiries about Viktor – his job, where he lived, if he had married again. She had to be very careful, or Harry would find out. But, luckily, her friend was involved in a new, big case and exceptionally busy. She thought about writing Viktor, but then she decided against it. She wasn't even sure if she wanted to talk to him. Just see him – that was enough for now.

After all the organising was done, Hermione felt better.

It felt like moving forward again.

* * *

Nervously, Hermione took another sip of her flask with Polyjuice Potion. She had stolen some hairs from an innocent Muggle girl nobody would recognise. Luna was right beside her, sitting at the table of the little café. Hermione had realised that she couldn't go alone to Bulgaria in case something went sideways. Luna had been the only option.

"Can I still call you Hermione, by the way?" the blonde girl asked dreamily.

"Call me Jean. That's my middle name. Just in case," Hermione answered nervously and took another sip of her flask. _Urg_. She had nearly forgotten how horrible Polyjuice Potion tasted.

"Fair enough," Luna mumbled and scanned the crowd. "You're sure he's coming?"

"Yes. He's still living in the same house. There used to be no Sunday he didn't buy some cake here. He loved cake." Hermione smiled sadly. They had been happy in Bulgaria. Of course, she had missed her friends, but she'd had Viktor.

They didn't need to wait much longer. Suddenly, a tall, dark-haired, muscular man entered the café. At once, Hermione tensed. She hadn't seen him for one and a half years now. He looked older but still fit, playing Quidditch with the Vratsa Vultures. Apparently, he had sobered up – at least that's what she had found in Harry's files. Her friend still kept tabs on Viktor.

She watched him order cake in a soft voice; then he turned and his eyes fell on Luna. He froze instantly. Shite. He recognised the blonde girl. Before Hermione could come up with an excuse to leave, he was at their table.

"Luna? Luna Lovegood?" he asked, a slight tremor in his voice.

Luna looked up. "Oh, Viktor. I didn't know you lived here." Her tone was colder than usual, and Viktor flinched. "That's my friend Jean. We're searching for Crumple-Horned Snorkacks in the Balkan mountains," Luna lied smoothly, her blue eyes glaring at him with disgust.

Viktor's eyes wandered to Hermione, and she tensed up, but he didn't recognise her of course. "Hello," he said and held out his hand. "I'm Viktor Krum."

She hesitated a little, but then she shook it. It was strange to touch him, especially his hands, which had done her so much damage. "I know. You're the Quidditch player. Ex-Husband of Hermione Granger, right?" She couldn't stop herself. She had to ask.

Viktor nodded, showing no emotions at all. "Yes." His eyes flickered back to Luna. "How … how is she?"

Luna's eyes narrowed. "Not your business. I so wish I could hex you."

Hermione stared at her friend. She had never seen her so enraged, so vengeful. "Luna," she hissed quickly.

"No, it's fine. I understand." Viktor's eyes wandered back to Hermione. "Sorry for our strange behaviour. My ex-wife and I didn't part on good terms." Slowly, Viktor sat down on a chair, uninvited. "You know her as well?"

Hermione shrugged. "She's friends with Luna. We meet her quite regularly. As far as I know, she's Junior Assistant in MLE now."

A smile seemed to flicker across Viktor's face; Hermione wasn't sure, though. "She always wanted that. She'll be made Head soon, you'll see." Then he bit his lip. "I've read she has boyfriend."

"Jean –" Luna tried to interrupt her, but Hermione didn't listen. Now that he was here, she wanted him to know it all. She wanted to see emotions on his face and not the mask he was presenting now. She used to be able to read him so easily. But he had changed. But so had she.

Hermione's voice shook slightly when she answered, "Draco Malfoy. They broke up."

"Oh." She couldn't identify if he was happy or disappointed. His frown deepened. "Maybe you can tell her … that I've changed and that I'm sorry. I truly am." He swallowed hard. "I'd write her but …"

Hermione understood. Harry would arrest him if he ever contacted her again. She didn't know what to think or to say to that. It had been such a stupid idea to see him again. Of course, she couldn't just forgive him like this because he uttered those words. But that was the reason she had come, wasn't it? She had wanted to know if he was sorry.

"We'll tell her. But I don't think she can forgive you," Luna suddenly threw in, watching Hermione carefully.

"I don't want forgiveness," he said quickly. "Just … she needs to know. I loved her. What I did was so incredibly wrong, and blinded, and …" He searched for words. "I don't know why I did the things I did. But I'll never …." He shook his head, afraid to reveal too much. "I loved her. Tell her that."

His words seemed sincere, but she wasn't sure how much she could trust her judgment. How much could he have really changed? And how much of the things he had done had been really him or just the alcohol?

"She knows that," Hermione whispered, suddenly finding her voice again. She didn't care how strange her words seemed. "And she must've loved you. But … you betrayed her trust and her love. Nothing will ever be able to heal that."

He frowned, suspicion growing in his eyes. "Hang on. How come you know so much about her, about … us?"

Luna quickly helped out. "Don't pretend you care about her! We have an appointment in five minutes. Hope to see you never again!" She pulled Hermione up. "Come, Jean!"

"Hey, wait," Viktor called after them. It only took him a few seconds to catch up with the girls on the street. "Your name is Jean?"

Hermione nodded, grabbing Luna's hand to stop her from attacking Viktor. She had seen the wand in her hand, even though Viktor hadn't.

"Quite a coincidence," he mumbled to himself. "Luna, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I did."

"That doesn't undo it!" Luna hissed, clutching Hermione's hand more firmly, ready to apparate.

"Goodbye Vik," Hermione said and realised a tad too late that she had used his familiar nick name.

His eyes widened. But before he could say anything, they both turned on the spot and disapparated.

* * *

 **So, Hermione has moved forward. But what happened with Draco?**

 **As much as I want them to run back to each other right now, that's not going to happen, guys. Sorry. It's just not in their character. (Just a little warning in advance, so you won't be too disappointed...)**

 **I hope you'll still enjoy reading this fic. Please review!**


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: Thank you to Cecelia Everhart, who tried hard to beta all my chapters. Special thanks to everyone who** **reviewed. Thank you for your comments and your support.**

 **I don't want to spoiler, but I've been asked about it a few times: Yes, Hermione and Draco will get back together, but not in this chapter nor in the next for that matter.** **They wanted their story to end in another way...**

* * *

31\. Nothing left to say

Draco knocked at Hermione's door for the hundredth time this week, but she didn't open. He had deserved that in a way, he thought. But still, he felt slightly worried now.

Without thinking, he apparated to Grimmauld Place Number Twelve and was let in by Kreacher instantly. The house elf led him through to the kitchen, where Harry and Ginny were having breakfast.

"Draco." Harry's eyebrows arched in surprise. "What do you want?" His tone was a tad colder than usual. Ginny ignored him completely and continued feeding Albus.

"I – how's Hermione? She's not answering the door," Draco asked straight up.

"Yes, she's taken a few days off to do a little trip with Luna," Harry explained, his voice tense. "She needed to clear her head."

Draco needn't ask from what. "Oh – er – do you know when she's back? We need to … talk." His voice trailed off.

"Don't tell me you've only just now realised that, Malfoy," Ginny suddenly snarled, glaring at him as if he was evil incarnated. "It's been nearly a month." Merlin, he hadn't noticed how angry she was.

"I can owl you when she's back," Harry offered as if Ginny hadn't said a word.

Draco grimaced. "Thanks. I- I've been trying to talk to her for days now, you know." He uncomfortably shifted his weight. "Thank you for offering the Pensieve, by the way."

"No problem. Just leave my office like you've entered it next time," Harry grumbled.

A light blush crept in Draco's face. "Er, sorry. I tried to fix it, but …"

"Forget it." Harry shrugged and indicated he should sit down. Hesitantly, Draco accepted the invitation. Actually, he'd rather leave, but he probably had some explaining to do.

"Why didn't you write straight away?" Ginny threw in, scrutinising him. Her eyes were still burning with fury.

Draco's mind automatically leaped back to the time he had seen Hermione's memories. "I … couldn't." It was true. He wondered what he would have done if Daphne hadn't cared for him … maybe killed Viktor, maybe drowned in alcohol. The Potters didn't believe him, though; he could see it on their faces. "I didn't have … the courage. I'm still not sure I can face her," he added vaguely. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either.

"Why?" Ginny hissed, misunderstanding his words. "It wasn't her fault. Don't you dare to judge –"

"I know," he interrupted her harshly.

"Then why?" Harry asked and put his hand over Ginny's to calm her down.

Draco sighed. He really didn't want to pour his heart out to Wonder Boy and the She-Weasel, but apparently, he had no choice. "I feel guilty, okay?" he whispered as low as possible. Maybe they wouldn't hear him.

But, of course, they understood him perfectly. Both frowned simultaneously, processing his words.

"You should," Ginny murmured eventually. "She was a mess."

"And what do you think I was? She bloody _told_ me to leave!" he defended himself, but then hurriedly put his hands up in defeat. "But you're right. I was a git, and I deserve your anger."

Ginny nodded in agreement but didn't push him further.

"She just should've told me from the beginning," Draco breathed. "We could've avoided so many fights, and … Skeeter, and …" he swallowed. "I would've understood. But now – I don't think we can go back to how we were before." Absently, he tugged at the bandage that he had hidden under his shirt. His arm hadn't quite healed yet. The mere sight of it sickened him – he couldn't even look at the sore skin without retching.

"But you want to, don't you? You want to go back to her?" Ginny picked up the conversation. She sounded hesitant, like she still doubted his motives.

He shrugged. "I need to apologise. I owe her that. But … I don't think she'll have me back. I wasn't in my right mind after our break up." He swallowed and clenched his left fist. "I didn't write her as I should have. Now it's too late."

"What do you mean – 'not in my right mind'? Why were you in St. Mungo's?" Harry enquired out of the blue.

Draco gritted his teeth. He could be pushed to a certain point but not further. "None of your business, Potter."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Fine. Whatever it was, it changed her mind."

Draco opened his mouth to protest, "She shouldn't have –"

But then, a loud bang interrupted him. They all spun around in fright, spotting the culprit easily. A large, black owl knocked vehemently at the window.

Draco was the first to find his voice. "Who's that?"

"Dunno," Harry mumbled, shrugging, and opened the window. Carefully, he removed the letter from the owl's leg and opened it. Both Draco and Ginny watched anxiously how he turned paler and paler with every word he read. His fists clenched and unclenched.

"Darling? Harry?" Ginny asked alarmed and jumped up.

"I can't believe it," he growled, breathing hard. "It's from Krum." His voice shook heavily with anger.

"What!?" Draco gasped, jumping up as well.

"Hermione –" Harry started but interrupted himself to take a calming breath. It didn't seem to work, though, since he still trembled violently. The pure hatred in his eyes made Draco's hair stand on end. Quickly, Ginny grabbed Harry's hand to stop him from hitting something and snatched the letter out of his shaking fingers.

Her eyes darted over the words hastily. "Bloody hell," she swore.

"What?" Draco repeated. "What is with Hermione? Why does the bastard write you?"

"She- she went to Bulgaria," Ginny spluttered because Harry was still unable to talk. "With Luna."

"I could strangle her right now," Harry thundered, freeing himself from his wife. "I'm going there this instant."

"But why would she do that?" Draco asked, torn between being angry and worried.

Ginny reached for her husband. "There's no need to go," she said reassuringly, apparently the only one who was able to think straight. "Harry, think for moment! Hermione'll not stay in Bulgaria, now that her cover is blown. Krum sent this yesterday." She pointed at the letter. "That means she's most certainly on her way home."

Harry's shoulder slumped. "Why would she do that?" he repeated Draco's question.

 _That's your fault_ , a little voice inside Draco's head screamed at him, _you told her to come to terms with her past_. The voice was right. "Is she all right?" Draco asked tonelessly.

"Krum didn't know it was her," Ginny explained softly. "They just talked."

Harry shook his head. "Why did I have to have self-control? I should've just killed him!"

Draco agreed. He wouldn't have been so noble if he'd been her friend back then. The bloody bastard would never have been able to lay a hand on a woman again.

"Harry!" Ginny chastised him. "You did the right thing!"

"Really? But then she wouldn't be in danger now," he spat.

"Harry, she's not! Don't you see? She _wanted_ to go there! And Viktor wouldn't have written you if he'd planned something."

"Why did he write you anyway?" Draco threw in.

"Goodness knows. Bad conscience. Whatever," Harry snapped, starting to pace up and down. "Why would she keep that from us?"

"Because we would've stopped her _obviously_ ," Ginny answered drily.

Dark thoughts raced through Draco's head. Maybe she went to Bulgaria to get back together with Viktor? He had driven her to that. Maybe she would get hurt and it would all be his fault. Oh Merlin, what had he done? The fierce pain of guilt spiked though his chest and he cringed. He couldn't take it anymore.

"I need to go. Tell me if she's back," he choked out.

Without waiting for an answer, he left the arguing couple. First, he went to work, where Mrs. King gave him a bollocking for showing up late. Like he cared. However, work didn't distract him today, so he excused himself just before lunch and left.

He had nowhere to go. His apartment was so empty, and cold, and full of bad memories that he couldn't bear it. And he couldn't always trouble his friends with his problems. So he apparated to Hermione's flat and sat down on her doorstep. At least he couldn't miss her that way.

* * *

"Draco?" The voice he had missed so much pulled him out of his sleep. It was dark, but he recognised the shadow in front of him instantly.

"Hermione, thank Merlin!" he sighed and jumped up. For a moment, he didn't care that they had broken up. All that mattered was that she was alive and well.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I waited for you," he whispered. "We need to talk."

"Oh." She swayed a little. "Do you want to come in?"

He nodded. "Please."

When the lights went on, Hermione's face was composed, almost cold. She put her bag on the floor and went through to the kitchen. He noticed a big plastic bag right next to the couch. It made him curious – what could she have packed in there? Before he could have a closer look at it, Hermione called him.

"Tea?" she asked, and his eyes snapped back to her.

Hesitantly, Draco stepped into the kitchen. "Thanks."

Seconds later, she handed him a steaming cup. He sniffed at it and pulled a face. "That's … English Breakfast Tea."

Her eyes shot up angrily. "Problem with that?"

"No, no," he placated her quickly, putting the cup down. His relief slowly subsided, and anger took its place. "Honestly, what were you thinking?" he exclaimed, his voice sounding more enraged than intended.

"I have no clue what you're speaking about," she informed him coldly. He hadn't noticed the iciness in her tone before, but now it sent a chill down his spine.

"Bulgaria. Why did you do it?" he clarified, scrutinising her.

Shocked, she took a step back. "How do you –?"

"Doesn't matter!" he said in a carefully controlled voice. "Why did you go there? Was it something I said?" He tried to say it as lightly as possible to conceal how much he really cared.

Her face went blank again. "None of your bloody business."

"He could've hurt you."

She only shook her head. "Well, he didn't."

Cold anger bubbled up inside him. How could she have been so _stupid_! If something would've happened – Merlin, he'd never forgive himself! "And you didn't think to tell me or tell Harry? He could've cut you up in pieces, and we'd never find out."

Her glare hit him like a punch in the stomach. There was so much hate in it. "I repeat: none of your bloody business! At least then you wouldn't see me ever again," she spat in his face and stormed out of the kitchen.

"Is that what you think I want?" he yelled after her. "I was sick with worry."

Hermione stopped in her tracks. " _Hypocrite_." She made an aggressive step towards him. "Just say it: It would've served me right. Me – the blasted girlfriend, who strung you along, who let herself get beaten up because she's an utter failure, who isn't even worth a bloody letter."

"You can't genuinely think that," Draco huffed exasperated. She totally misunderstood him. "That's idiotic."  
"Sorry that I'm not clever enough for you," she hissed.

"That's not what I meant. You're twisting my words! I wanted to say–"

"Do I look like I bloody care what you think of me?" she interrupted him, her eyes flashing with anger. "If you came here to accuse me, you can leave right now, just as you did before."

"No, Hermione," he declared, trying to get through to her. Had he hurt her so badly that she truly didn't care about him anymore? Why wouldn't she just listen?! "Hermione, _please_ listen to me. I was truly scared that he could've hurt you, because" he swallowed audibly, " _I_ still care."

"Well, I don't," she snapped, and he could read the truth in her eyes. She was done with him.

"But …" Draco stumbled back against the wall. That couldn't be. He realised that he had secretly clung to the hope that Hermione would just accept his apology and forgive him, like she had forgiven him in the past. He'd had the illusion that they'd really get back together.

"I came here to –" he tried again.

She shrugged arrogantly. "I don't care, Malfoy. I genuinely thought you'd have the decency to say straight to my face how you feel – that you didn't want to see me again. I got the message. You don't need to explain." She was so fixated on the idea that he hadn't written her on purpose that nothing he said would be able to convince her otherwise. However, he still needed to try.

"But… that's not what happened. I – look, Hermione," he tried to elaborate. "I was in a muddle. I was sick, and I felt so guilty that I simply couldn't …"

Her face twitched. "You couldn't write a simple letter. I get it."

"No … _no_! I- I love you," he choked out because there was nothing else left he could say. She didn't want to listen, she didn't want to know, she didn't want to forgive.

Something flickered in her eyes, but she concealed it quickly. Now her eyes were colder than he had ever seen them. Frozen gold.

"Too bad. Because I don't love _you_ anymore!"

* * *

 **They're a stubborn lot, aren't they? They just didn't want to do it my way ... the plot bunny decided it would take more than an apology for them to get back together. A** _ **lot**_ **more. Consider yourselves warned ;) (Sorry for the drama again, haha)**

 **Please review!**


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews, guys. I'm glad you all kind of agree with me.**

 **So, this is more of a filler chapter to set up "the showdown" (which will have to wait another few chapters, sorry). I really like the scene with Jamie, though.**

 **To be honest, I'd written out my plot outline only up to this point, after that, it said "they get back together". That means the Narcissa-stuff is the plot bunny's fault! I'm sure you're all familiar how pesky those little things can be :P**

 **(\/)  
('. ') = evil**

* * *

32\. Christmas Secrets

Faster than Hermione had expected, Christmas was upon them. She had planned to spend Christmas Eve with her parents and the Christmas holidays with the Weasleys and Potters, as every year. So she apparated over to the Burrow on December the 25th, packed with presents.

Even before Hermione entered, she could hear George and Bill singing carols a little off-key to drown out Celestina Warbeck's voice from the wireless. Smiling to herself, she stepped into the room. It seemed Molly had thrown herself into decorating. Garlands of holly and golden-silver streamers hung over the doors and windows. Magical snow glittered in heaps over the carpets and windowsills. A large Christmas tree, decorated with living fairies, almost blocked the entrance to the kitchen.

Hermione's mood lightened instantly. The familiar people, who had loved her all her life, greeted her effusively.

After she and Draco had broken up, her relationship with the Weasleys had gone back to "normal". She had been invited to the dinners, as usual, and was welcome at any time. Of course, it had made her sad that her acceptance into the family was bound to her choice of boyfriend, but she wasn't one to hold grudges. Besides, the Weasleys really tried to make it up to her.

So she accepted all the apologies and pretended that nothing had happened. Why wouldn't she? Draco was gone for good.

The thought of him still hurt and not even watching _Love Actually_ three times in a row had helped. But today, she wouldn't think of him. Today, she would be happy.

So she smiled and hugged everyone as if there had never been a man called Draco Malfoy.

Ginny was in the beginning of her last trimester and 'feeling like a fat cow', as she put it. For now, she just sat on the couch, Albus on her lap, sipping some hot chocolate. Hermione flopped down beside her, a glass of home-made eggnog in hand.

"How are you feeling?" she asked lightly.

"Like I'm going to explode," the redhead replied, wincing. "Little Lily's quite strong."

"Oh, you've decided on the names!" Hermione squealed excitedly.

"If it's a girl – which it will be – Lily Luna," Ginny smiled, patting her belly. "And for a boy we thought about Remus Cedric or something like that."

A broad smile played across Hermione's face, and she actually had to swallow back a lump in her throat before she was able to answer. "Remus would be proud."

"I know he would," Ginny said sadly. "How are you?"

Hermione nipped at her eggnog. "I'm all right."

Ginny rolled her eyes but said nothing.

"Mione!" James yelled and jumped on her lap without warning. "I've brought you a cookie. Dad said you look –"

"James!" Ginny interrupted her son quickly.

"That's nice of you, Jamie," Hermione said, taking the chocolate cookie with a smile. James looked so longingly at it – all but eating it with his eyes – that it made her laugh. "Here. You want it more than I do," she added, offering him the cookie.

James shook his head. "Dad said chocolate helps when you're sad. Are you sad, Mione?"

Hermione exchanged a glance with Ginny. How could a three year old be so sensitive? "Do you remember my friend Draco?" She cringed a little at saying his name.

"Dwaco!" James laughed happily, still pronouncing Draco's name the way he'd learned it half a year ago.

"I miss him," Hermione admitted in a whisper. She felt her guts clench painfully.

"Where is he?" James asked with big eyes, looking around as if he expected Draco to show up right in their living room the next moment.

"That's enough, young man," Ginny interrupted. "Go, play with Victoire. She's all alone over there."

James pouted for a moment, but then climbed from Hermione's lap and ran over to the blonde girl. Hermione's eyes were fixed on Ginny. "Do you and Harry talk about me?"

Ginny winced. "Well … we're your friends and we worry."

"I'm fine," Hermione repeated, trying to wave her friend's concern away.

"Eat the cookie and shut up."

Hermione laughed but did as she was told. She found herself enjoying the day, and the food, and the presents. In the evening, George and Ron presented their newly invented fireworks, and it was brilliant. After that, Ginny and Harry said their goodbyes, just like Percy and Audrey.

"Up for a last game, Hermione?" Bill challenged her, grinning. He had been playing cards with Ron and Harry all evening. "We're short a player."

"Sure," she said, joining the game with ease.

After she had won two rounds in a row, Molly interrupted them. She put a motherly hand on Hermione's shoulder and asked, "Hermione, dear, do you want to stay here for the night? You can have Ginny's old room."

Hermione hadn't realised how late it was. Through the window she saw that the sky was covered with thick, heavy clouds, threatening snow. Fleur, George, and the children were already gone. Without thinking, she answered. "I'd love to, Molly. Thank you."

Molly beamed.

"We'll be back tomorrow, Granger, and then, we'll crush you," Bill promised, a mischievous gleam in his eyes, giving a high-five to Ron.

"Dream on," Hermione grinned and said good night.

Tired and exhausted, she dragged herself upstairs, the stairs creaking under her feet. Without thinking, she grabbed a pair of Ginny's old pyjamas. Being here was way better than staring at the wall of her empty flat. Ginny's old room evoked so many memories of her time at Hogwarts, all the sleep-overs at the burrow, the secret meetings in Ron's room, and the whispered conversations with Ginny. She found herself terribly missing the smell of the Gryffindor Common Room – of smoke, and parchment, and home. She missed the sneaking out to Hagrid beneath the Invisibility Cloak late at night, and, most of all, she missed the feeling of certainty that nothing was ever going to vanquish the deep, unbreakable friendship between Harry, Ron, and her.

Or maybe it was something else entirely that she missed.

Before she could submerge in that thought, an owl tapped against the window, startling her. A frown furrowing her brow, she let the tawny owl in. Too late, she realised who it belonged to – Narcissa Malfoy.

Her breath hitched in her throat. Could it be from _him_?

 _Of course not_ , she scolded herself for letting her mind wander like that. He wouldn't send his mother's owl, obviously. It seemed to be from Narcissa herself.

With trembling fingers, she took the letter out of the owl's beak. Against her expectations, the bird didn't leave. It stretched out its leg, and she spotted a small velvet pouch that was bound to it. She removed it hurriedly, and finally, the owl flew swiftly back into the starless night.

Hesitantly, she opened the pouch first. Something small and hard was inside. She shook it, and a silver ring fell into her fingers. A ring? Frowning, she examined it further. A heart-shaped emerald was in its centre, framed by two diamonds. The silver was intertwined and formed a perfect circle. It was breathtaking. Simple, but perfect.

But why would Narcissa send her a ring? Even more curious than before, she opened the letter.

* * *

 _Dear Hermione,_

 _I am sure you wonder why I have written you and why I have enclosed this present._

 _Firstly, I want to say how sorry I am that things between you and Draco are over, and I feel genuinely ashamed of the role Lucius and I played in it. Draco does not talk to us anymore. I am afraid we have lost him forever._

 _I sincerely hope you can forgive me and Lucius, although we might not deserve it._

 _Secondly, I sent you this gift for safekeeping. Keep it in a secret place and tell no one about it until I tell you otherwise. Could you please do that for me? It may seem strange, but it is extremely important. I trust you with it._

 _You will receive another letter – I cannot tell you when – maybe in a month or in a year. Then, I will be able to explain everything properly._

 _Until then, take care of yourself._

 _Merry Christmas,_

 _Narcissa M._

* * *

Dumbfounded, Hermione folded the letter and stared at the ring. She couldn't make head or tail of it. The strange letter occupied her thoughts while she got ready for bed. For now, she chose to comply with Narcissa's request and hide the ring and the letter.

Quickly, Hermione placed a charm on the parchment, so she would be the only one able to read it. Then, she put the ring back into the velvet pouch, sealing it with the strongest spell she knew. It could only be opened by her wand.

Deep in thought, she went to bed, determined to not let the pain in, of which this letter had reminded her. Just to read Draco's name made her fall to pieces. But she wouldn't let that happen. She didn't want that beautiful day destroyed by sadness and nightmares.

Since it was Christmas, she could allow herself a little treat: one sip of Dreamless Sleep Potion, no more. She accioed the flask she always carried in her handbag and uncorked it. The liquid tasted heavenly, like strawberries and summer nights.

As soon as Hermione's head touched the pillow, she fell asleep.

* * *

 **I know it's short, but I hope you still liked it. Please review!**


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N: Thank you a lot for the kind reviews. Yes, Narcissa is working on getting them back together, but in her own way or rather the only way she thinks will work.**

 **After you've read this chapter, you'll know why I think my plot bunny's evil. I really didn't want to do it, but as soon as the idea had appeared, I saw no way around it. I hope you'll stick with the story anyway...**

 **Actually, you should be thankful because I saved you from another terrible cliffhanger. I wanted to let it end just when she receives the second letter. (*Imagine evil laughter as usual*)**

* * *

33\. Narcissa

New Year passed in a whirl of festivities, and Hermione tried to suppress all thoughts about the letter and Draco. She didn't want to stay up all night pondering Narcissa's words, and she sure as hell didn't like to be reminded of her ex-boyfriend. No, she wanted some happiness for once.

It worked quite well until Hermione saw Draco again in late January in Diagon Alley. She was shopping with both of the pregnant ladies, Ginny and Lavender, and had just left a shop when she noticed him on the street. Draco looked straight at her, and she shivered at the cold steel grey of his eyes. But the longer he stared, the softer his eyes turned until they were so intense that she had to look away. Merlin, how could she still miss him liked that? After everything he had put her through.

When Hermione looked up again, Draco was still there, looking at her quizzically. With a few long strides, he stood in front of her.

He looked pale, but then he always looked pale. In a way it suited him.

There was a light quaver in his voice when he spoke. "Hermione."

"Draco," she said as cold as she could.

He hesitated, tugging at the hem of his robes. Finally, he searched her gaze. "How were your holidays?" he asked.

Hermione frowned. Was he trying the small talk again? Why would he anyway? "Fine," she replied stiffly, folding her arms primly across her chest. Remembering Narcissa's letter, she added, "Is your mother well?" She hadn't wanted to ask, she hadn't wanted to talk to him, but the words left her mouth before she'd been able to stop them

Draco's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "My mother?" he asked. "Why?"

For a second, she met his gaze; then she looked away again, shrugging. "Just … nothing. Forget it." Before he could deepen the conversation, Ginny and Lavender appeared.

"You!" Ginny hissed und pushed Draco away from Hermione. "Leave her alone!"

Shock crossed his face. "I just wanted to talk to her."

"Like that worked out the last time," Ginny spat venomously and grabbed Hermione's arm. "Come, sweetie. We don't need that git."

Without resistance, Hermione let herself be dragged away. What did he want? Talk? Had he changed his mind? What if he had? She bit her lip. No. She was done with him. She would not give him another opportunity to hurt her.

* * *

A month passed, and Hermione didn't see Draco again.

One day, she was still at work, Percy rushed in. He'd never visited her before although he too worked at the ministry.

"Percy?" Hermione asked, a look of surprise flickered across on her face.

Breathlessly, Percy leaned on the chair in front of her desk and puffed, "It's Ginny. She's in hospital. I think the baby's coming."

" _What_?" Hermione exclaimed, jumping up so suddenly that she threw over her chair. She gestured towards the fireplace. "You can use my floo if you want."

"No, I'll get the others. Just go," he said, smiling, and straightened his glasses. "See you there."

With that, Percy was out of her office again.

Without thinking twice, Hermione grabbed the floo powder and stepped into the flames. Mere minutes later, she found the other Weasleys and Harry in a waiting room in St. Mungo's.

"Have the contractions started?" she panted, staring from George to Ron to Lavender to Harry.

Harry looked at her with a pained expression. "I was in the office when the hospital called, so I don't know what happened. I was just in there." He pointed at a door. "But they need to do some examinations and told me to wait outside for now."

"Oh, Harry. I'm sure she'll be fine!" Hermione smiled reassuringly. "In a few hours, you'll have a Lily Luna in your arms."

Harry attempted a smile. "Yeah," he replied faintly.

Hermione's eyes wandered over the other Weasley's, all wearing anxious expressions. "I'll get us all some tea. That'll cheer us up!" she then offered, and everyone nodded thankfully. Quickly, she made her way to the cafeteria. Only a few minutes later, she stepped with five mugs of tea, floating in front of her, into the lift and nearly bumped into Narcissa Malfoy.

"Hermione!" the blonde witch exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"Ginny's in labour," Hermione explained, scrutinising her discreetly. Narcissa looked paler than usual, her skin was nearly grey, her normally glossy hair had lost its vibrancy, and she seemed to have aged years since Hermione had last seen her. "Why are _you_ here?"

"Oh, you know." Narcissa made a vague hand movement. "Check up."

Hermione's frown deepened. Narcissa's words sounded too much like an excuse. "Are you okay? You seem … unwell."

"I just caught a chill," Narcissa replied quickly, pulling the hems of her coat over her wrists as if she was cold. Her fingers looked too thin, too fragile, as if they could break any moment. "It's nothing serious," she added reassuringly when she caught Hermione's doubtful glance. "Lucius is waiting for me in the lobby."

"Oh." Hermione swallowed hard, then decided to change the topic. "About that ring and the letter –"

Narcissa's gaze abruptly sharpened. "Not here."

"But …"

Vehemently, Narcissa shook her head. "No. It has to wait. But not long." Her blue eyes turned sad. "I promise." Her voice was barely a whisper, and Hermione had trouble understanding her over the buzzing of the lift.

"Have you talked to … your son?" Hermione asked tentatively. She couldn't bring herself to say Draco's name.

Unfortunately, the lift shuddered to a halt and the doors opened in that exact moment. It was the gynaecological floor, and Hermione had to get back to the others. Insecurely, she blinked and turned to the older witch, holding the doors open with one hand. "I could accompany you downstairs," she offered, half-hoping the other witch would agree.

"Ah, nonsense. Goodbye, dear girl," Narcissa said warmly and surprised Hermione with a fierce hug. Confused, Hermione left the lift and headed back to her friends.

"Have you seen a ghost?" George joked, readily accepting the tea she offered them.

"No. But something similar," Hermione answered deep in thought. "Anything new?"

"Harry just went in," Lavender replied, nervously caressing her belly.

"Mhm." Hermione pushed the whispers of the Weasley family to the back of her mind – nearly everyone was present now – and pondered over Narcissa. She hadn't looked as if she'd had a cold. Sick, yes, but not with a cold. Did Draco know? Why had Narcissa behaved so strangely? Maybe Hermione should visit her? What if it was something … fatal? She _had_ looked at the verge of collapsing. But why wouldn't Narcissa tell her?

Half a day later, they surrounded Ginny's bed, admiring little Lily Luna. No complications whatsoever. Happy and tired, Hermione left the young couple and went home, having completely forgotten about Narcissa.

The weeks went by, and Hermione was constantly busy with work and babysitting for Ginny. Narcissa crossed her mind every now and then, but she pushed the thoughts away. She didn't have time now, maybe next week, maybe after that new law was official, maybe when she had some days off. She didn't like thinking about Narcissa because her mind automatically circled back to Draco, and she hated that. Hermione was so good at avoiding thinking about him now that she'd almost convinced herself that she'd forgotten him.

But things changed when, on a brisk and rainy Saturday afternoon in mid-April, another owl arrived.

* * *

 _Dear Hermione,_

 _If you read this, it means I am dead. As you might have gathered from our last meeting, I was sick – terminally ill – a very aggressive form of cancer. I am sorry that I could not tell you earlier or explain everything in person. I did not want my husband to know. The reason for this is quite simple. He would not accept my decisions concerning you, and I cannot have him interfering._

 _Firstly, I have bequeathed you with the ring of my mother, Druella Black neé Rosier. I have sent it to you in advance because I feared Lucius would prevent that. This ring is – as most Black heirlooms – magical, but not dark. You need not fear it. Just put it on your finger; it will protect you. My son will explain everything else._

 _Secondly, I need you to promise me something. I fear Draco will fall into a deep hole when I am gone. We have spoken often in the last weeks, but he has not forgiven his father yet, nor does he know about my illness. You need to take care of him, Hermione. Please. You cannot deny me that. You are the only person he will listen to. Please. Just look after him, even if he pushes you away, even if he says hurtful things he does not mean._

 _I know I am – was – a meddling, old woman, but you and he are made for each other. I will not find peace until I know that he is together with the woman he loves. I know you feel the same way – the ring would not have appeared otherwise._

 _Do not think about my husband; he will accept it when the time comes. I have written him a letter as well. As for my son, please forgive him and let him explain. I am begging you. Do not stand in the way of your own happiness._

 _Hermione, I am sorry I could never tell you while I was still alive. I wronged you with my behaviour. I should have stood up for you, but I did not. This will haunt me forever. I hope you can forgive me._

 _I wish you a long and happy life, may it be with Draco or without him. That is still your own decision. But believe me if I say that Draco will be the best for you._

 _Do not mourn me, Hermione. I do not wish you to be sad on my behalf._

 _Take care, daughter of my heart._

 _Narcissa M._

* * *

Hermione was barely able to read the last words. Tears obscured her vision, and she wiped them away furiously. Why did she cry? She had barely known Narcissa, only met her a few times for tea – that was it.

How could Narcissa dare to ask such a promise of her? Draco hated her. Narcissa must have been out of her mind – the painkillers probably. But her thoughts seemed collected and everything well planned. Was it possible she knew her son better than Hermione expected her to?

Still crying silently, Hermione accioed the velvet pouch, removed the incantations, and let the ring fall into her palm. It was still there, lying still and heavy in her palm. How could that mean she loved Draco?

Not that the ring was wrong. Hermione had tried to forget him, but she still loved him.

Sighing, she gave in and put it on her finger. It looked far too precious for casual jewellery, but Hermione didn't care. It was Narcissa's wish, and she would honour it.

Therefore, she summoned a quill and wrote a long letter to Draco. She didn't quite know what to say, but surprisingly the words flowed out of her, like a river she had tried to control but that now broke free. Finally, she removed the enchantments on her floo, so that Draco was able to pass again. It felt good, and she didn't know why. It eased some of the guilt she felt.

Hermione didn't owe Narcissa anything, but she had been right. Draco would be lost without his mother. And, yes, maybe Hermione stood herself in the way. Maybe Draco was the best thing that could have ever happened to her, but maybe he was the worst.

The only way to know was to try.

Hermione didn't know why she took this decision. Perhaps she was sick of the pain inside of her, sick of missing him. They had never really talked about it, just screamed at each other. Maybe if they did, she would be finally able to move on, … or – she didn't dare to follow that thought. Too much hope wasn't good.

* * *

 **I'm sorry...?**


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! I'm glad it wasn't too obvious what I was about to do. So, in this chapter, Draco and Hermione meet again. I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I do ;)**

 **I included this particular quote since I thought this could be something that was going round in Draco's head.**

* * *

 _Wake me up inside/ call my name and save me from the dark,  
bid my blood to run /before I come undone, save me,  
save me from the nothing I've become._

Bring me to life by _Evanescence_

* * *

34\. Trainwreck

Since Draco hadn't answered her letter, Hermione apparated to his flat on the next evening. Blaise opened the door, and his expression changed from confusion to sadness to relief. "Hermione," he whispered. "You've heard."

She nodded. "Can I come in? How is Dr-Draco?"

Blaise cast a quick glance over his shoulder. He seemed tense, worried. "I don't know. He doesn't talk, or eat, or do anything really. He just stares out of the window." He opened the door fully, letting Hermione enter. "I don't know why you came, but I think you might be the only one to get through to him."

Hermione nodded silently and followed Blaise into the bedroom. Draco's back was turned to the door. His shoulders stiffened a little when they entered, but otherwise he didn't acknowledge them. He just stood at the window, watching the rain in silence. A feeling of darkness, of grief, radiated of him, and Hermione swallowed thickly. He looked miserable, like a lost puppy who was trying with all his might not to be lost anymore, not to fall apart.

"Draco?" Hermione asked gingerly, her voice barely a whisper.

A shiver ran over his body, but he didn't turn.

Worried, she exchanged a look with Blaise, but the dark-skinned wizard only shrugged. "I'll make us some tea," he murmured, retreating to the kitchen.

Now Hermione was all alone with Draco. Cautiously, she approached his tall figure but didn't quite dare to touch him.

"I'm sorr–" she began.

"Don't say it," he interrupted her huskily, his voice raw with emotions.

Hermione nodded, thankful that he at least spoke to her. "I never knew what to say to those words either." She stepped beside him, so they stood side by side, staring out at the rain. Draco was so close that she felt his warmth in the cold room, only a few inches separated them. She desperately longed to take his hand, but she kept herself under control. He didn't want to be touched; he didn't want compassion or pity.

"So what did you do?" he asked suddenly. His voice was so soft she almost couldn't understand him.

She shrugged, her thoughts wandering back to the summer after the Battle of Hogwarts. "I nodded and smiled."

From her periphery, she saw Draco's hands clench into fists. "Then you're stronger than me," he breathed, his voice almost even. She could see that he was trying, trying so hard not to show emotions, to remain detached. But then, his shoulders began to shake slightly, and his whole body shivered with the effort to suppress the sobs that threatened to escape his lips. Hermione just couldn't stop herself: she took his hand, nothing else. She knew he didn't want to be comforted, but he _needed_ the comfort more than he would ever admit to himself.

"Draco. It's okay," she said because he needed to hear it. It was okay to cry. It was okay to grief. It was okay to let go.

He vehemently shook his head, but didn't meet her gaze. His eyes stayed fixated on something outside. "You don't need to lie, Hermione."

A warm feeling flowed into her stomach only because he had said her name. How could something so small feel so good? "I'm not lying. I'm here with you, and we'll get though that. It'll be okay," she repeated, squeezing his hand.

He cast a sidelong glance at her, but said nothing. However, the silence conveyed more than a conversation could. It settled over them like a warm blanket, wrapped them in the security of her words. Although she knew that Draco didn't quite believe her, he wanted the words to be true enough to let them in for the moment, to give him comfort.

A moment later, Blaise returned with the tea, and Hermione pressed a hot cup into Draco's hands. "Drink!" she ordered.

He looked at her again, but she didn't turn and kept staring out of the window. Finally, he lifted the cup and took a sip. To Hermione, it felt like sign of life. Relived, she let out a breath she wasn't aware of holding.

Blaise smiled lopsidedly at her. "I think I'll leave you two to it. I'm in the living if you need me," he said and left again.

Sip by sip, they emptied their cups, and Hermione was painfully aware that he still held her hand.

"Maybe you should sleep a bit," she suggested after a while. She had noticed the dark smudges under his eyes and the lines of exhaustion on his face that betrayed his fatigue.

"No!" he contradicted, suddenly panic-stricken, starting to tremble all over.

"Okay, okay, it's fine. We'll just stay here," she assured him quickly, caressing his hand soothingly.

Slowly, his breathing returned to normal.

They stared out of the window for a long while. Finally, a strangled sound escaped his lips.

" _Why_?"

* * *

"I don't know, Draco," Hermione said gently.

Draco was aware that she probably hadn't understood his question. He couldn't think about his mother anymore. It was too painful. So he focused on the number pain, and that was Hermione.

 _Why_ did she come? _Why_ was she still here? _Why_ did she care?

Her hand was small and warm, giving him more comfort than his father ever could. Lucius had summoned him to the Manor, so he could say goodbye to his mother, and Draco had obeyed. They hadn't exchanged one word. The silence that reigned the Manor was very different to the calmness and peaceful quiet between him and Hermione. There it weighed him down as it spoke of wintry stillness – as if the world were frozen –, of loss, and of words left unspoken. His father was simply incapable of showing compassion or love, even if he saw how much Draco suffered. They had nothing to say to each other.

No, Draco wouldn't think about that now.

Instead, his eyes wandered to the beautiful woman next to him. Hermione was everything his father would never be. He could still hardly believe that she was here. She seemed a little slimmer than usual but not as ghostly as she'd been in Diagon Alley. Perhaps she'd moved on. She should have moved on because she didn't love him anymore.

But why was she here, then?

He didn't quite trust his voice when he asked, "Hermione?" Oh, how he enjoyed saying her name.

She turned to look at him, searching his gaze. "Yes, Draco?"

"Don't leave," he begged, and she nodded at once.

"I won't." Her voice sounded sincere.

Of course, she had misunderstood him again. Draco didn't mean now, he meant _ever_. He wanted to stay here in this moment forever, inside their little bubble where she protected him of the realness of reality, where she still cared for him and held his hand. But suddenly, exhaustion hit him like a blow in the face. Staggering, he tightened his grip around her.

"You should sleep," she repeated and pushed him slowly to the bed.

"No! No, I can't," he said, panicked, fighting desperately against the tiredness. He knew this was a fight he was doomed to lose, but he wouldn't give in so easily.

"Why, Draco?" she asked, pushing him back down when he tried to stand up. "I'll protect you from the nightmares." Quickly, she sat down beside him.

He looked at her, felt her closeness, and something about that coaxed the truth out of him. "But … you'll be gone when I wake up," he admitted tonelessly.

She was quiet for a moment. "No, Draco. I'll stay. I promise. I'll stay right here until you wake up."

His eyes found hers for the first time, and he could read the truth in them. They were so sad and full of compassion and … love? That couldn't be.

Yet, Draco believed her and curled up under the covers. The bed was warm and comfortable and he felt himself drifting away. Without warning, the mattress shifted when she stood up, and he shot upright again.

"No. Please, don't go! Please, just … stay here. Please, I won't … touch you … I just _can't_ be alone," Draco stammered, desperately searching for words, his hand outstretched as if to reach for her.

Hermione sighed, and her features softened. He moved aside to give her some space, patting on the bed, and looked pleadingly at her.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Fine."

Draco couldn't help the smile that sneaked onto his lips. Content, he lay back down, enjoying the warmth of her body next to his. Oh, how he had missed her. More than breathing. Very carefully, his fingers wandered over the cool bed sheets, searching for hers, for her warmth and her touch that made everything better. Tentatively, he brushed against the back of her hand, and when she didn't flinch back, he entwined their fingers gently. Then he let his eyelids droop. Within seconds, he was sound asleep.

* * *

When Draco woke what seemed days later, Hermione was still there beside him. She had fallen asleep as well, and he realised how exhausted she looked. Probably a hard day at the office.

Draco rubbed his temples and tried to push away the nightmare he'd had.

His head snapped back to Hermione. _No_! She was here. She was right here, where she wouldn't be if his nightmare … had been a nightmare.

The grief and the pain hit him with the force of a high speed train, and he couldn't stop the sobs that broke out of his chest. Hermione woke at once.

"Draco?"

He couldn't answer, just tried to stop crying, but it was like stopping a volcano from erupting – impossible.

"Oh, Draco," she whispered and pulled him into her. "Just cry. It's okay to cry."

His father would never have uttered these words. But she did, and he loved her for it, however hopeless this love was. He let her comfort him because it could be the last time he touched her and hugged her like this.

She didn't push him away, even though his tears stopped after a while.

"Sorry," he finally whispered, putting some space between them. "I'm crushing you."

Hermione helped him to an upright position and smiled warmly. "Never mind. Do you feel better?"

A frown furrowed his brow and shrugged noncommittally. He didn't know what he felt. Certainly nothing that could be described in words.

She tilted her head. "What do you say if you hop into the shower and I'll make us a quick breakfast?"

He stared at her, his frown deepening.

Hermione chuckled and stood up. "Come on, Draco. Out of bed. Get a move on." With that, she was out of the room.

Groaning, he rolled out of bed and went to the bathroom. He would take that bloody shower if it meant she would stay a little longer. The warm water cleared his thoughts, but that popped up even more questions. Questions about Hermione.

His mother would know what to make of it.

The pain this thought caused slapped him right in the face, and he had to struggle for breath. But somehow he managed to get out of the shower and dress without crying or letting himself be ripped apart by the pain.

The familiar smell of her cooking evoked a different kind of pain, and his chest felt unnaturally tight.

"You look better," she said lightly when he sat down at the kitchen table.

Quickly, he averted his gaze. "Where's Blaise?"

"He left while you slept." She put the food in front of him and ordered, "Eat!"

Draco bit back a snarky comment and took his fork. "Can I ask you something?"Without waiting for a response, he added, "Did you know?"

Hermione paused. "You mean Nar-?" She stopped in midsentence, seeing him flinch. "No," she added quickly. "Maybe I should've guessed."

"If someone should feel guilty, it's me," he said, bitter. He hadn't wanted to sound like he was blaming her.

"Nonsense," Hermione contradicted harshly, putting his cup of tea down with more force than was strictly necessary. "She didn't tell you deliberately."

Draco ignored that. He wasn't at a point yet where he could forgive himself. Before the guilt could consume him, he fired another question, the most burning one. "Why are you here?" As soon as the words had left his mouth, he knew it had been a mistake.

Shocked, she looked at him, her eyes wide. "Do you want me to leave?" Her voice cracked.

"No!" he said too quickly, too panicked, to appear not caring anymore. "I just – I … you don't owe me anything. Why would you come?"

"Because …" Hermione gritted her teeth. "We are still friends. Friends care for each other."

He dimly recognised the words he had said to her nearly a year ago. "I didn't know we were still friends," he whispered faintly.

Of course, she took it the wrong way and her face fell. "Oh. Of course. Sorry," she said, her voice clipped. "I'll leave as soon –"

"No!" he interrupted her, almost reaching for her hand as if to stop her from standing up. "Please don't. That's not what I meant."

Hermione stared at him, scrutinising him, searching for hidden motives. "Okay," she agreed very cautiously.

Draco knew he shouldn't interpret her words or her actions because she did it out of pity, but he couldn't help it. "Thank you."

Hermione smiled weakly and pointed at the untouched eggs. "Eat!"

* * *

Draco didn't know how he managed to survive the days until the funeral, but Blaise and Hermione were a big factor in it. Without them, he would probably be drinking himself to death.

Draco had to stand next to his father during the whole ceremony, but he didn't look at him once. Hermione lingered somewhere in the back because she said she wasn't welcome here. It was true. Vile glances were shot in her direction from some of the high and mighty pureblood family members, and it mortified him. But there was nothing he could do.

Little by little, the guests left, but Draco just stood there, rooted to the spot, and stared at the gravestone. This couldn't be. His real mother was back home, baking Peanut Butter Cookies or looking for a new wallpaper. This simply couldn't be.

He was startled out of his thoughts by loud voices. Spinning around, he recognised his father, who seemed to be seething with anger. Next to him were Blaise and Daphne, standing protectively in front of a pale figure. Hermione. They seemed to be arguing.

Draco was just about to walk over to them when a voice interrupted him. "Draco?"

He turned and looked right into the indigo blue eyes of Astoria Greengrass.

* * *

 **Reviews make me happy, so please review! :)**


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N: Thank you very much for the reviews you've left me! And let's not forget my beta Cecelia Everhart! Thanks, girl!**

 **Everyone excited about this chapter? Me, too! Before we move on with them getting back together, I wanted to elaborate on Hermione's past and throught processes, so you (and Draco) can understand her behaviour a bit better. I'm sorry for the extreme long stretches of dialogue. Please, bear with me for the time being!**

* * *

35\. Road to Recovery

"Come, Hermione. You don't need to listen to this," Daphne finally hissed, shooting Lucius a vile glance and grabbing Hermione's elbow to drag her away from the indignant, spluttering man.

Hermione cast a quick glance at Draco, but he seemed absorbed in a conversation with Astoria. Her black hair was perfect – wavy, but not bushy like her own. However, before jealousy could overwhelm her, Daphne disapparated with her.

"Don't take it to heart what that old bigot said. He's grieving," Daphne mumbled and pushed Hermione onto the couch.

She shook her head to focus her thoughts. "Yes." Hermione's voice was a bit husky, and she cleared her throat. "I know. I think I should go home."

"No, no, no. You stay and drink a cup of tea with me, and then we talk about your ex." Daphne had already summoned the cups and the teapot.

"I really don't want to talk about him," Hermione contradicted weakly, but accepted the mug that was pressed into her hands.

Daphne smiled crookedly. "I know. But I think you need to talk to someone."

Hermione sighed. "Fine."

* * *

Hermione didn't floo over to Draco until the next day. She had to think about a lot of things she had talked about with Daphne.

Draco looked unexpectedly sober and collected, sitting on his couch and reading the Daily Prophet, when she appeared in his living room. Instantly, he leapt to his feet.

"Hermione?" He stared at her with big eyes, like she was some kind of miracle.  
A frown furrowed Hermione's brow. Was he just surprised to see her or was it something else? "Is something wrong?" she asked, her eyes scrutinising the apartment. Maybe she had interrupted him and Astoria. But only one cup of tea stood on the table and one dirty plate lay in the sink. Nobody else seemed to be present.

"No – I just … after yesterday, I didn't expect you; that's all," he stammered, but remembering his manners, he pulled himself together. "Tea?"

Hermione nodded thankfully. "You seem fine today," she remarked, sitting down on the offered chair.

Draco's shoulders stiffened and he turned his back to her, preparing the tea. "Just better at pretending," he said bitterly.

She lowered her gaze to her hands. It made her sad, hearing something like this, although it might be the truth. "It'll get better."

"I know."

They were quiet for a while, just sipping their tea and staring into nothing. Hermione wondered why she'd even showed up here. Was it Daphne's words? Was it jealousy and the sneaking suspicion that Astoria might be here? Or did she simply miss Draco?

"I'm sorry about yesterday," Draco finally breathed. "I wanted to defend you, but then Astoria appeared, and when I finally managed to get away, you were gone."

She nodded almost imperceptibly. "It's okay. I didn't expect you to," she said without inflection. With carefully controlled movements, she refilled her teacup. "How's Astoria?"

He shrugged just as casually, not betraying with one gesture that he was aware of the tension, the awkwardness, between them. "Fine. Michael couldn't come because of some business trip, and he excused himself." Each word seemed to be carefully chosen to not break the fragile truce between them.

"Ah." Under the table, Hermione clenched her fingers into fists to keep them from shaking. He and Astoria looked so perfect together. The perfect pureblood couple. Maybe they'd rekindle their romance now, having hit it off at the funeral. Maybe _she_ would help him grieve, and he wouldn't need her – Hermione – anymore. Narcissa's wish would be fulfilled.

Why did she care anyway?

Hermione gritted her teeth, knowing she lied to herself. She knew exactly why she cared and why it hurt so much to picture him with Astoria.

"I know it's bad timing, but … I think we should talk," Draco finally declared when she made no move to add anything.

Hermione swallowed and tried to prepare herself for what was coming. She shouldn't be so scared; it was the reason she had come here, after all. "Yes, we should," she agreed, even if it meant she had to finally move on.

Draco inhaled a deep breath, as if to prepare himself. "Before you say something, I need to … explain. I wanted to tell you so many things on the day you came back from Bulgaria, but you –" he interrupted himself. "Anyway, I need to tell you now."

Hermione nodded quietly – her breath shallow, her heart racing – waiting for his accusations to hit, to plunge into her like a knife and erase every possibility of a future together.

"I came to your flat to apologise," Draco said slowly.

All air vanished from Hermione's lungs, and she took in a gulping breath. It wasn't what she'd been expecting at all.

Quickly, Draco continued as if he was unable to stop the words tumbling out of his mouth. "I was not in my right mind after our break up – you know what happened… and then you sent me those memories." Something flickered across his face, but she wasn't quite sure what it was. "They made me feel like an even bigger idiot than I already was. I had threatened you, and pushed you, and blamed you, and yelled at you for things that were out of your hands." He held up a finger to stop her from interrupting him. "I was so wrong. It made me feel so guilty that I couldn't face you. I'd deserved your hate and all the pain because I was the most horrible boyfriend on earth."

Hermione's mind was reeling. She couldn't believe her ears. He was _sorry_? He didn't hate her?

Draco peered up at her through his lashes. "I should've written you how sorry I was, but then it was too late, and everything blew up in my face. I'd waited too long, and you couldn't forgive me. You'd decided …" he swallowed. "Well, you didn't love me anymore. And I understood, but …"

She stared at him, still turning his words over in her mind. "So you weren't disgusted? Or detested me? You didn't wish me … away?"

Draco shook his head, his eyes burning with an intensity that made her shiver. "How could I? I'm sorry I made you think that. No, I told you," he shrugged almost apologetically, "I loved you."

"Oh," she whispered tonelessly, her mouth suddenly very dry. She was quite aware of the past tense in his sentence. "Let's say what you told me is true –"

"It is!" he exclaimed.

Perseveringly, she continued, "Why wouldn't you have tried harder? Why would you just leave?"

Draco pulled a face. "Because I thought it was better this way." He fiddled with the teacup in front of him. "You didn't want me anymore, and I had to accept that even if it wasn't what I wanted. I thought I had hurt you so deeply you couldn't stand me anymore."

"Well, you had," she agreed, summoning all her strength to sound sober and objective. "But that didn't change my feelings. But you still haven't told me," she swallowed convulsively, "what you think of me."

Draco's face softened, his eyes like melted silver. "Oh, Hermione. Don't you understand? To see him hurting you, to hear you scream in pain … and to not be able to do anything about it –" He massaged his temples as if the memory gave him headaches. "It was the worst thing I've ever experienced. It'd cost me all my strength not to go to Bulgaria and –"

Hermione flinched, imagining the rest of the sentence.

"I'd never think badly about you because of that. I still think you are strong," he concluded, staring her straight in the eyes. His gaze was so intense she quickly looked down at her hands.

"I guess you have some questions?" Hermione finally muttered, considering what Daphne had told her. He had a right to know everything.

"Look at me," Draco whispered.

Slowly and cautiously, she looked up. His expression was still soft, his eyes concerned. "We don't need to do that."

"We do," she contradicted. "You have the right to know, whatever it is you want to know." She wanted there to be no secrets between them, so they could move on somehow, so they could maybe stay friends. Although she wasn't quite sure if she'd survive that – to see him every day and _not_ be with him. But the alternative was to never see him again, and that she couldn't survive.

Draco pondered about that for a moment and finally asked, "How did it all start, your relationship? Why did you marry him?"

"Hm." Hermione took a sip of her tea. It wasn't a question she had expected. "I told you about the letters and my break up with Ron."

Draco nodded.

"Well, in February, I met with Viktor and we really had a connection. I'd missed it to have an intellectual discussion or just someone who was _there_ , you know? Hell, I'd even have started to date you if …" She stopped, blinking. "Sorry."

A small laugh escaped his lips; the silver of his eyes sparkled for the first time. "No, don't be. I'm flattered."

Hermione smiled apologetically and continued with a slight shaking in her voice. "Although Ron tried to make it up to me and win me back, it was simply too late. He hadn't spoken to me since Christmas, and I was really hurt. So I stayed with Viktor. We started seriously dating after my graduation, I even visited him in Bulgaria. He helped me deal with my nightmares and other … stuff. We got together before I started my traineeship in MLE."

A sad smile flickered across her face. "Harry and Ginny got engaged and Ron was dating Lavender. All was perfect. My job was great, the war was over, and slowly the world was as it should be: peaceful. Ron and Lavender got engaged on Harry's wedding a year later. Again, I felt left out. I didn't want to marry yet, but everyone else did. They were so happy with their relationships and I was …" Her voice trailed off.

"Not," Draco finished her sentence.

Hermione frowned. "I don't know." Her frown deepened as her thoughts travelled back in time. "Retrospective, I can't really tell you how I felt. Viktor proposed to me in autumn, and I accepted because I felt that I had to. I wanted the same bliss Harry and Ginny had." Her right hand felt for her left ring finger, where a ring should be. "We married in spring 2002, just a few months after Ron and Lavender. It was big in the press: famous Quidditch player marries war heroine." Hermione laughed, but it had a bitter note to it.

"We moved to Bulgaria, but kept a flat in London for visits and if I had to work late. You only know the bad things, but we _were_ happy. Vik bought me flowers and wrote me every day when he was away for training. He did so many things Ron never did, and I felt loved. I did love him, but not like I loved y-" she quickly interrupted herself. She had nearly spilled the beans, but Draco didn't seem to have noticed anything. He was still watching her attentively, waiting for her to continue.

"Anyway, things went well until the Quidditch World Cup." Hermione shrugged. "As you know Bulgaria was defeated and Viktor retired from the national team. We moved back to England, and he started playing for Puddlemere United, but he wasn't satisfied. The season didn't go so well for him, and he wasn't as praised as before. He became increasingly angry at me for nothing, especially why I wasn't pregnant yet." She bit her lip and peered through her lashes. Draco's face had become blank, trying to conceal his emotions.

"I understood him. I mean Ginny got pregnant with James about that time, and Lavender and Ron made openly plans about having a baby. We fought a lot. He expected me to give up my career at MLE for our children, which was something I completely refused to do. He had been drinking for quite some time then, but it was never too bad. Then James was born in January, and Lavender was pregnant as well. Puddlemere United hadn't won the Cup since he was on the team, and his drinking got worse and worse. Of course, we kept it a secret, but it was hard. I tried to help him, to support him, as a good wife should, but the bad days outweighed the good ones."

Unwillingly, her hands started to tremble. "The press picked up on it, and he blamed me, he blamed me for everything. I still thought we could get trough that, we could work it out, like Harry and Ginny worked out all their problems. I tried so hard, so hard … but it didn't work." Hermione swallowed. It was incredibly difficult to talk about that, more difficult than Draco realised. But she did this for him. She owed him.

So with a shaking voice, Hermione continued, "Nothing I did was good enough. Viktor decided to leave the Quidditch team and start something else, but he wasn't accepted into the Auror's programme for his involvement with the Death Eaters. Little things made him mad now, a wrong look or something I allegedly implied." She took in a deep breath and looked at Draco. "You know the rest."

Draco stared at her. Hermione could see how he tried to process the story she had told him. She tried to read what was going on inside of him, but he kept his face impassive, as if she'd been talking about the weather.

"Why didn't you leave sooner?" he finally asked.

Hermione had known this question would come – it always came. "I told you, I thought we could make it work. If I'd only get pregnant, I thought, all the problems would disappear." It felt strange to talk about that. Hermione had never told anybody any of this, just bits and pieces to Harry. "Viktor was still famous, and it'd have been a huge scandal if I left him. I thought if he'd only stop drinking …" She sighed. "I didn't understand why I failed. I was so good in everything I did, but in my relationships I've failed."

Draco shook his head, first slowly then more vehemently. "That's not true." He cleared his throat. "I mean, you didn't fail. It's not your fault," he clarified.

"I knew you'd say that," Hermione replied, smiling faintly. "Harry said just the same. But in your hearts you feel otherwise. You think I should've just left him after the first time. I should've fought him harder. I should've told my friends."

"No." Draco shook his head again to emphasise his point. "That's not what I thought," he said firmly, and Hermione's head snapped up towards him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. "It's in your character to fight for the things you love."

Her eyes widened. "I didn't think you'd understand."

"That's why you didn't tell me," Draco stated calmly.

There was no accusation in his voice, but still she flinched. "Yes. I did trust you, but … I still thought you'd leave me, you'd reject me." Hermione emptied her cup with one gulp. He mouth was dry and her throat felt scratchy. "In the end, I was right, wasn't I?"

Draco's face fell.

"Don't worry about it," she said hurriedly, forcing a smile. "I was expecting it. That doesn't mean it didn't hurt like hell."

He opened his mouth and closed it again. "I … I _am_ sorry, Hermione."

She attempted a smile, but it felt false. She knew he would see right through her. "Never mind." Hastily, she stood up to flee the nearly unbearable tension between them. "That was enough drama for one day, don't you think?" Hermione asked, putting her cup into the sink. She needed a break, or she would accidentally reveal more than she should. Besides, she really had to think about what he had told her. Had he said the truth? Should she believe him? And if yes, what did it mean for their relationship?

Draco needed a break, too. She could see that he was barely able to hold it together; any more emotional drama and he would fall to pieces.

She heard the chair scratch over the floor as he stood up as well. "But … there are still so many things I want to tell you, to ask you," Draco said cautiously.  
Hermione turned around. "This is not the time. I don't want you to say things you don't mean because you're hurt, and grieving, and don't want to lose me." She reached for her jacket. "Come on, let's get you outside."

Draco hesitated, but she simply thrust his jacket into his hands. This time, her smile was genuine. "What do you think about visiting the Quidditch Museum?"

* * *

 **Tadaaaa :) Only four chapters left, so you don't have to wait much longer for the Happy End!**

 **Please review!**


	36. Chapter 36

**A/N: So, in this chapter Draco throws himself a pity party and discovers some things about Hermione. I couldn't resist throwing in a reference to the series _Sherlock_ (except the title). If you've watched the show, you'll find it easily.**

 **Anyway, thanks for the reviews, my dear readers. You were all absolutely right that Hermione needs to apologise, too, that she needs to take responsibility for her part of the break up - and she tries. I hope I fulfilled your expectations. ;)**

 **Maybe we can crack the 300 reviews with this chapter? - That would be awesome!**

* * *

36\. Study in Amber

When Draco got up Monday morning, looked out of the window, and saw the bright sun and the narcissi grow in the neighbour's garden – his mother's favourite flowers – he felt as though someone had punched him, all air vanishing from his lungs. It wasn't fair that she couldn't see these wonderful flowers, that he would never see her tend to the garden in Malfoy Manor, and that she would never see her grandchildren or his wedding, should it ever come so far. The feeling of regret settled like a stone in his stomach, weighing him down.

Instead of breakfast, Draco took the bottle of _Odgen's Finest_ he had kept hidden in the sock drawer and fixed himself a drink. Technically, he should go back to work today – but, hell, what was it good for to be the sole heir of the Malfoy fortune if you couldn't even skive off work?

Suddenly, his eyes fell on a letter that hadn't been there before. It lay innocently on his kitchen table, but he hadn't put it there. Curious, he stepped closer, examining the fine parchment. At once, he recognised the elegant handwriting. Only one person he knew made ' _j_ 's like this. But – this couldn't be.

With shaking fingers, he broke the seal depicting the Malfoy's family crest and pulled out the parchment. Something small and shiny fell tinkling onto the table. Confused, he picked it up.

It was a ring.

* * *

When Draco flooed over to Hermione's place, she had already left for work. He needed to talk to her urgently, but he didn't dare to interrupt her at work.

Spontaneously, he decided to stay and wait for her. Her apartment was just as he remembered it. A large bookshelf covered the entire northern wall of the living room with so many colourful books that it almost looked like a mosaic. The little space that was left on the wall was filled with pictures of her friends and family. Without consciously wanting to snoop, he started looking around. First, he only looked at the pictures – some of them moving, some frozen; then he began to pull a few books out to skim the synopsis, but soon he was opening doors, boxes, and drawers.

In a back corner of her wardrobe, Draco found the big yellow bag he had noticed on the day of their fight. Dust covered it, like it hadn't been opened for a while. Curious as he was, he tugged at the cord that held it together and eased it open.

On the top lay a few books – _Der gute Mensch von Sezuan_ , for example. Draco didn't know what to make of it. Why would she pack away books of all things? But then a familiar smell hit him. Tea? Did she keep tea in there? Even more intrigued, he grabbed the books and stacked them on the floor. Then he started searching for the tea. Indeed. After a few seconds, he pulled out a large pack of Earl Grey. Draco stared at it dumbfounded. Slowly, his gaze wandered back to the bag, and understanding dawned on him when he saw a grey T-Shirt next to a green dress. The T-Shirt was definitely his and the Slytherin green dress had been his favourite, the dress from the Birthday Party.

The things in there were remnants of their relationship.

Hermione hadn't thrown them away; instead, she had orderly packed them together and hidden in the back of her closet. Draco didn't know if that was a good or a bad thing. Did this mean she still cared, despite of what she had said? Because if she didn't, she could've just burned the stuff or – less dramatically – given it back to him.

Thoughtfully, Draco tied the yellow plastic up with the cord and buried it in the deepest corner of her wardrobe. Noiselessly, he closed the double doors and made a step back. He knew he shouldn't do that, snoop around. But staring at the wooden doors, he realised that he could find more clues about her feelings if he continued.

Yesterday, Hermione had told him a lot of stuff to think about. She didn't believe his compliments and apologies. She assumed that he only revealed his feelings to her because he didn't want to be alone – which might be true to a certain degree – not because they were true. In fact, he wanted to tell her so badly that he still loved her that it felt like a burning inside of him. But, of course, he couldn't do that. It was not the right time.

What difference would it make? Hermione had made it quite clear that her feelings towards him hadn't changed. She was over him.

But could this bag of remnants mean that she wasn't?

Sighing, Draco left the bedroom and crossed the hall to her office. It was as usual very tidy. He was aware that he only tried to take his mind off the letter, the ring, and his mother. But this way of distraction helped, so he continued the clueing for looks or, er, the other way round. The Firewhiskey he had drunk on empty stomach made itself felt.

After searching through boring stuff from the ministry, letters from friends, and a sealed file with the initials VK – which he was unable to un-seal – Draco encountered a locked drawer. Frowning, he muttered, " _Alohomora_."

It didn't budge.

Ha. This meant it had to contain something important, a secret maybe. After a few spells, the lock clicked, and Draco was able to pull the drawer out. The smell of dust mixed with ink and parchment hit him, and he had to suppress a sneeze. Inside the wooden drawer was a bundle of papers. At once, a familiar handwriting caught his eye, and he instinctively held his breath. This couldn't be. Hermione, too? But why?

Gingerly, Draco reached for the letter only his mother could have written. He was aware that this letter wasn't for him to read, but the temptation was just too strong. He wanted to absorb every word his mother of his mother, every emotion hidden behind pleasantries. He wanted to picture her with her favourite peacock feather in hand at her desk, writing these lines.

With shaking fingers, Draco unfolded the letter and skimmed the carefully chosen words his mother had written. The third paragraph made him stop, though.

His insides went ice cold. Unable to grasp the meaning of it, he reread the paragraph over and over again.

 _You need to take care of him, Hermione._

Draco didn't understand the pain that seared through him as if someone had stabbed him with a branding iron. It shouldn't hurt so much to read this. Hermione only cared for him because his mother had asked her to. She didn't do it because she had any feelings left for him. It was just the wish of a dying woman.

He had clung to that false hope that Hermione still somehow loved him, but this letter ripped it away and left him raw and vulnerable.

It was crystal-clear to him now that he had _used_ her. He had never taken into account what she wanted or that she might not want to be with him at all. He had forced her to sleep in a bed with him, goddammit. She must resent him.

But where would Draco be without her? Certainly not in a good place, probably not even alive.

What had his mother done? Why did she have to meddle with his life even after her death? If she were here right now, Draco would scream at her how she dared to interfere. But actually, if he could only see her one more day, he wouldn't scream. He would hug her and tell her he loved her because he hadn't told her often enough. He would thank her for everything. He would divulge to her all the things he was never able to tell her before. Maybe he would even thank her for this letter because all that mattered in the end was that Hermione was talking to him again, wasn't it?

* * *

Hours later, the floo roared. Draco was still sitting on Hermione's couch because he just couldn't go home. He couldn't go on like nothing had happened. No, he needed to address this, talk to her.

Luckily, he had found a few bottles of beer and had started to drown his sorrows in them. All the thoughts that swirled around in his head, everything that had come to light, made him feel dizzy, numbed, detached, as if it didn't concern him but another Draco, a different Draco.

There was this ice inside of him, lying heavily on his chest and stomach. He felt alone, more alone than ever. He was without parents now – he didn't consider his father his father anymore – and without the girl he loved because she didn't care an ounce about him, she only abided the wishes of woman she had barely known.

Could his life become ever more miserable than now? He didn't think so.

"D-Draco?" Hermione called out in surprise when she spotted him on the couch. "I've been looking everywhere for you!"

"Why?" At once, he gritted his teeth. He hadn't wanted to be so rude.

"Why what?" she asked and sat down beside him. Her knee touched his and he flinched.

"Why did you lie to me?" Very cautiously, Draco turned his head and looked into her warm eyes, feeling himself drawn by them.

"I don't know what you mean," Hermione whispered, a frown appearing on her face.

He cleared his throat to chase away the lump that had formed in it. "The letter from my mother," he croaked.

Shock crossed her face. "How did you …? I wanted to tell you," she said, stumbling over the words in haste, "just not right now. I thought – I thought you'd read something into it that wasn't there."

A bitter smile flickered across Draco's face. He had done just that, and now it was too late. But he shouldn't blame her for things that he himself had brought upon him. It had been his fault she had fallen out of love.

He dared to cast a quick glance at her profile. "I'm sorry for what I've put you through. Just because you came looking for me … and we slept together in one bed – it doesn't mean that you need to stay or tell me things I want to hear. I can handle …" his voice broke. "It's okay if you're not in love with me anymore. It's okay if you did it for my – _her_ ," he added hoarsely.

Hermione turned abruptly, so she was facing him, her curls whipping through the air. "I'd never tell you things just because you'd like to hear them," she said slowly, firmly. "And I didn't do it for your mother, Draco, I did for you."

"What?" Draco felt as shocked as if she had admitted to being a secret fan of the Chuddley Cannons.

She sighed, pushing her hair out of her face. "You really want me to say it, do you?"

"Say what?" he repeated blankly. He didn't understand the turn of this conversation. Wasn't she supposed to be mad? Why was he suddenly so … full of false hope again? This was cruel. She couldn't possibly mean her words the way he interpreted them.

Hermione shifted her weight. "I … listen, Draco. I'm a good liar. You believed me so easily." She shook her head. "It's not all your fault that this relationship ended. I drove you away on purpose and I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry I didn't let you in. I'm sorry I made you leave." Her hand fluttered towards Draco as if to reach for his hand, but then she clenched it into a fist and let it drop to her lap. "If you've read the full letter, you know – you know that I still …" her voice trailed off. "I'm sorry," she tried to continue. "I've no control over my feelings. But I don't want you to feel like you owe me something, just because I took care of you. I won't leave even if you …" She bit her lip. "Well, I don't want you to confuse your feelings for me."

Draco actually hadn't read the whole letter and got the feeling that he should have because he was missing an essential piece of information. Was she still referring to the promise she had given to his mother or something else entirely? "My feelings were never confused. I still –"

"No!" she interrupted him quickly. "Whatever you want to say, don't. Don't commit to something you can't keep."

He looked at her blankly, a frown furrowing his brow. "I don't understand."

"I know." Hermione thoughtfully twirled one strand of hair around her finger. "Do you remember the ten questions?"

Draco nodded silently.

"We still have two left."

It took him a second to grasp her words; then he asked, "You want to do that _now_?"

Hermione shrugged. "Why not?"

Hell, yes, why not?

* * *

 **A raise of hands - who still remembered the two questions they had left? And yes, I'd planned that from the beginning. :)**

 **PS: I hope you all had a great Halloween full of sweets and pumpkin pie.**


	37. Chapter 37

**A/N: Thank you to** PrettyPrincess1616 **,** purplehedgehog13 **,** Malibu Baybreeze **,** AuraAuthor, Faerlina, Sherlock Harry Winchester, crookshanks the kitty, **and the two Guest reviewers for reviewing the last chapter.**

 **And let's not forget _Cecelia Everhart_ , who betaed this chapter! Virtual cookies for you (::)**

 **In this chapter the magic of the ring will be revealed and three questions will be asked. Enjoy.**

* * *

 _"Do you remember the ten questions?"_

 _Draco nodded silently._

 _"We still have two left."_

 _It took him a second to grasp her words; then he asked, "You want to do that now?"_

 _Hermione shrugged. "Why not?"_

* * *

37\. Pride and Prejudice

HHermione watched Draco's face carefully to see if he would suddenly change his mind and run again. His eyes stared into nothing for a second and then focused back on her. His gaze was hesitant as if he felt unsure he really wanted to know everything. Hermione wasn't sure herself. She didn't want to hear that he had moved on with Astoria. They had seemed awfully cosy at the funeral while she'd had to endure vile insults from an arrogant pureblood bigot.

"Okay," Draco finally muttered. "Shoot."

Quickly, she pushed the dark thoughts away and concentrated on the questions she wanted to ask. This had been a stupid idea. She couldn't possibly find out anything with only two questions, without being blunt that is. She started with the less dangerous one. "Narcissa bequeathed me with this ring from her mother. Can you tell me about its magic?"

Draco arched one perfect eyebrow. He probably hadn't expected this question, but somehow she felt it was important. "Right. I remember that she mentioned it in the letter. Show it to me," he said and stretched out his hand.

Gingerly, Hermione removed it from her finger and put it in his palm. His eyes widened with shock as he stared at it. "She gave you _this_ ring?" he asked a little breathlessly.

Hermione nodded silently, unsure what his reaction meant.

"Now I understand the secrecy," Draco chuckled, but he turned serious a second later. "But how can it be…?" he wondered, more talking to himself than to her, it seemed.

Nervously, Hermione clasped her hands. There appeared to be something wrong with the ring or with her having it. "I don't understand."

He cleared his throat. "Well, this was my grandmother's engagement ring. It probably existed long before that in the Black line. She and my grandfather had an arranged marriage, but it turned out to be happy. The ring's protected by an old spell so that only a true Black could wear it. Its counterpart is …" he swallowed, tugging at the hem of his shirt as to avoid her scrutiny. "They share a bond. It's complicated, old magic, Hermione. I could never explain it properly. The rings enhance or strengthen the feelings the wearers have for each other, such as love. They connect them. My mother told me that I'd know I met the right woman if the ring would accept her." Draco bit his lip, peering up at her through his lashes, as if scared to meet her gaze.

This revelation hit her with full speed. The rings thought she and Draco were meant to be – or why else would she be able to wear it? But how could that be true if he wasn't in love with her anymore? Or was he?

"But –" Hermione protested, but he interrupted her at once.

"That's not all. There're spells woven into its elements. The _emerald_ stands for protection." Draco's pale fingers traced the green gemstone in the centre of the ring. "The bearers swear to protect each other on all costs. The tale goes even as far as that they'd feel it physically if the other person was in danger." He paused, turning the ring in his fingers. "The _diamonds_ stand for eternity. There's no way out of the marriage once it's accepted. And finally, the silver …" He stopped fiddling with the piece of jewellery, put it on the table, and pushed it away from him. Hermione stared at it as if it was poisoned.

"It's two things," Draco continued. "Firstly, the basic element of the magic the ring exerts, the bond between the engaged couple. As such, it – I don't know how to explain it properly." He sighed and rubbed his temples. "It wants you to please the counterpart," he finally concluded and looked up.

Hermione swallowed. " _Please_?"

"No such trivialities as physical pleasure, if that's what you're thinking," he said quickly, trying wave her concerns away. "Neither is it about wishes." Suddenly, an expression of guilt flickered across his face, and Hermione understood that it was something much, much worse.

"What is it?" she gasped. It had to be something really bad, judging by his reaction.

"I'd never use it on my wife, I promise you. I didn't even know my mother was in possession of it." There was something desperate in Draco's gaze, something pleading her to understand, to believe him, but she wouldn't until he told her the whole story.

"Spill!" Hermione said, a demanding undertone in her voice.

Draco sighed, giving in. "Do you know the qualities of a good pureblood wife?" he asked, his eyes fixed on the silver ring in the centre of the table.

Hermione frowned. "What has that to do with anything?"

Draco looked up but didn't answer, just eyed her expectantly.

Her frown deepened. "Be a pretty accessory without a mind of her own," she guessed.

A crooked smile sneaked onto his lips. "Close. She should also obey her husband."

A heavy weight seemed to settle on Hermione's chest as understanding dawned on her. "I don't get it," she said tonelessly.

Draco looked back down on the ring, avoiding her eyes. "This ring ensures if … he were to give her an order, she would obey it."

"What?"Hermione shrieked. "But that's … that's …"

"Like they were house elves?" he suggested drily.

She stared at him speechless.

"I know. I know. As I said, I would never, _never,_ use it!" His voice quivered with the intensity of his promise, and for some reason, she believed him.

Still. "Why on earth would your mother want me to have that cursed thing? Does she want me to be your puppet?" Hermione hissed, snapping out of her state of shock. Instinctively, she drew back from him, as if he would force the ring on her finger.

Draco shook his head. "It doesn't work that way, Hermione. It doesn't make you a slave. You need to have feelings for it to work and we – we'd need to be engaged at least," he explained quietly.

"She gave you the other ring, didn't she?" Hermione speculated, and, judging by his expression, she had hit the nail on the head. _Oh no. Oh no. Oh no._ She felt like she couldn't breathe anymore, like all the oxygen had been sucked from the room. Taking in gulping breaths, she stammered, "Your mother tried to … bring us back together with it."

"Don't worry," he said firmly, holding up his slender hands as if to calm a wild horse that had broken free. "It won't make you love me."

"Ugh, but don't you understand?" Hermione exclaimed, leaping up from the couch, unable to sit beside him any longer. "She gave it to me because I bloody do love you."

That had hit home. Draco paled noticeably and his mouth fell open. _Shite._ Had she just said this out loud? "I mean …" she swallowed hard. Her mind was suddenly blank and she couldn't come up with an excuse or explanation.

"Don't take it back," Draco pleaded with a shaking voice, half-raising from the couch as if to stop her from fleeing. "No take-backs." He could see that she was considering running from him and locking herself in her room, so he added quickly, "My turn. Is it true? You still love me?" He held her gaze firmly.

Hermione closed her eyes to escape his blazing steel grey eyes. She should have known he would ask. Now she had to answer truthfully; she owed it to him. Cautiously, she sat back down right on the edge of the couch to put as much distance between them as possible.

"Yes, I do," she said so quietly, she wasn't sure he had heard her.

Draco stiffened beside her and she drew back a little more. "Look at me," he then pleaded huskily.

Slowly, Hermione opened her eyes, afraid to encounter his gaze. Would it be full of disgust? She wrapped her arms protectively around her chest and let her eyes wander upwards until they reached his eyes. They were troubled and emotional, thousand shades of grey, like clouds over the sea, but she could detect no sign of disgust.

"How…?" he choked out.

"I've said it all before. I lied to you. I've never fallen out of love, even after all the pain I felt. My feelings never changed," she whispered slowly. The moment of truth had come. No way back. "I only tried to push you away because I've allowed you to hurt me so deeply that I didn't know how to survive it. I never wanted to be hurt again." She paused, drawing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

"I was proud. I thought you despised me, and I didn't want to give you the satisfaction to see me beg. I thought Viktor was right and nobody could ever love me again. I convinced myself it would be better this way. Me, the lone wolf, against the world." Hermione smiled grimly. "I thought I didn't need you in my life."

She shook her head, finally looking up. Their gazes locked. "But I do, Draco. I understand if you don't … feel the same. I know what you father thinks. And you and Astoria seemed so well together …" Her lips trembled when she spoke. "But please don't push me out of your life. I know you think you need me now, even that you might love me, but its only pain and loneliness; in a month, I might be nothing to you. Please spare me the pain of being left again."

"But – but _you_ left _me_!" Draco sputtered.

"I did," she nodded. "That was the only thing I could do if I wanted to keep control over my life."

He simply stared at her, mouth slightly open, hands shaking. "Am I dreaming?" he wondered tonelessly. "Because this can't be happening."

"Sorry. You're wide awake." Hermione smiled bitterly. "I know. I'm a nightmare. I'm such a mess."

"Nightmare?" Draco repeated incredulously, shaking his head. "Why – why did it need so much pain for us to talk properly? If I had known …"

"I'm sorry. I know it's bad timing. But you wanted to know," she said herself defensively.

Abruptly, Draco leaned forward towards her. "Ask me!" he said, more intense than ever.

"What?"

"Ask me your question!"

Hermione bit her lip because she didn't know anymore what to ask. Of course, she had questions, but she felt unable to utter any of them.

"Hermione Granger, speechless," he said, a wide grin spreading on his face. He seemed way too happy for this whole situation. "Then let me tell you anyway: my feelings were never confused, not even for a second. I told you that I still love you half a year ago and nothing about that has changed. I tried to move on, but I couldn't – even though I had accepted your decision that it was over. I felt like you had ripped out my heart and taken it with you."

Hermione gasped. This couldn't be. He was describing how _she_ felt. All of a sudden, it was all too much for her – his presence, his words, and the truth behind them; it all came rushing at her, hitting her all at once. There was a heavy lump in her throat. Tears threatened to spill over and there was nothing she could do to stop them.

"Why are you crying?" Draco's desperate voice reached her. "Please don't. I understand if you don't want me back, love."

The use of her familiar pet name only made her sob harder. Draco loved her and she had pushed him away because she'd thought he wouldn't – couldn't – lover her after he'd learned about her past. She'd hurt him for the sole reason that she'd suffered and wanted him to suffer, too. She had been so blinded, so stubborn. It had taken Narcissa's death for them to talk properly, for them to actually listen to each other. To Hermione, it felt like the other woman had sacrificed herself so that she and Draco could find each other again. That was nonsense of course since Narcissa would have died anyway – but it still made her feel guilty.

"Hermione." Suddenly warm arms wrapped around her. "Don't cry."

"S-s-sorry," she hiccupped. "I just … can't take it."

"What's wrong?" His face was so close, his lips so tempting, his eyes so soft.

" _Everything_. It's not fair that she had to die for us to realise how stupid we are." Hermione stifled another sob, pushing free of his embrace. "But then I think that love alone is not enough. I don't know how we could possibly go back to the relationship we had before." She looked up at him, her lashes heavy with tears. "I don't know what to do, Draco."

A ghost of a smile flickered across his face. Cupping her face in his palms, he wiped away the tears with his thumb. "Before we make decisions, I have one last question."

Hermione nodded weakly, prepared for everything.

"May I kiss you?"

* * *

 **This is your cue to say: awwwww! Aren't they adorable? :D**

 **So, please review, guys! Seriously. Yes, I mean _you_ , too!**


	38. Chapter 38

**A/N: Thank you so much for the positive reviews from last chapter! I'm glad you loved it, guys. My heart melted as well, when I wrote it.**

 **This is the (pen-)ultimate chapter. The next one could also be seen as an epilogue. I hope you understand Hermione's hesitation in this chapter, she's a logical person, after all. And even if she's good in forgiving people, it's not easy to forgive Draco just like that.**

 **I'm sorry this is so late, but I was just not happy with the chapter. I wanted more atmosphere, more ... I don't know. I'm still not entirely content, but I didn't want to delay any further.**

 **Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy it. ;)**

* * *

 _"May I kiss you?"_

* * *

38\. Omnia vincit amor

Draco stared at Hermione's tear stained face, anxiously waiting for an answer. The silence seemed to stretch into infinity, although only a few seconds passed until she nodded.

"Yes," Hermione finally whispered, her voice like a summer breeze. "Please do."

A smile flickered across Draco's face, and his gut clenched in anticipation. Gently, slowly, he bent down, savouring the moment before their lips met; this moment that was sometimes better than the kiss itself. Then he touched her lips with his.

Her response was instant. Eagerly, hungry, like gasoline to fire, she reacted to him, pulled him closer, buried her fingers into his hair, and melted into his touch. Draco could feel himself getting lost in their kiss, forgetting the world around him. Hermione was the world now; her fingers were everywhere, her touch was everything he needed. She was his beginning and his end.

Way too soon, she pushed him away, putting distance between their bodies, which only made him crave her touch even more.

"This isn't right," she said, her hand helplessly flattering between them.

Vehemently, Draco shook his head. No! He wouldn't let her push him away again. Not now that he knew how she felt, not ever. "It wasn't right before and it may never be, but …" he took her hand and placed it on his chest, "does this feel wrong to you?"

"Draco …" Hermione's eyes turned sad and dark. He could see that her lashes were still wet from the tears she'd cried.

"No! I won't let you go again! I was so stupid. Please let us try," he almost pleaded, not letting go of her hand, even when she tried to pull away.

Hermione stiffened, her shoulders suddenly rigid, her jaw clenched. "I don't know how," she admitted. Her hand slipped through his fingers and dropped to her lap.

"Let's just spend time together. I know you want to," he said, attempting to convince her by peering up at her through his lashes. However, she wouldn't be sweet-talked by him.

"But what if you decide that I push my problems on you and threaten to leave again? What if my past wrecks our plans? What if your demons haunt you again? And don't say _we'll figure it out_ because that didn't quite work last time, did it?" Hermione exclaimed, a bitter undertone in her voice.

"You don't think I'm serious about you? I am. How can I show you?" He shook his head. "There are no secrets to come between us. You've confronted your past. I will too, I promise. Please, believe me," he replied, leaning towards her to emphasise his point.

Hermione's eyes softened, but she didn't relax completely. "Oh, Draco," she sighed, reaching out to touch his arm. "I believe you believe that, but it doesn't have to be true because of it. I don't want you to regret being with me again."

"I've never regretted that!" he retorted and leapt to his feet. Why couldn't she just see what was right in front of her eyes? Why wouldn't she accept that they belonged together? It drove him crazy.

"Draco, be sensible. We are not ready for this. You're grieving for your mother, and I … I need to figure some things out," she said evasively, avoiding his searching gaze.

"What things?"

Hermione simply shrugged, and he realised that her words were empty, just excuses for a different reason entirely. She was trying to run again, to evade any form of serious relationship.

"You don't want me?" Draco whispered, the hurt obvious in his voice.

Her head snapped up towards him. "You're such an idiot, you know that?" she said, rolling her eyes. "I thought I made it perfectly clear that I do. I just want us to be ready for this."

He took a deep breath to calm himself and sat back down on the couch. "When?"

"I don't know." Hermione shrugged again, moving away from him to the edge of the couch. This time, he let her.

"So until then…?" he asked tonelessly. Hermione's words, her body language felt like a rejection. She said she loved him, but she didn't want to be in a relationship with him. What the heck did she want then? Them being just friends?

Hermione smiled slightly. "I won't disappear if that's what you think."

Draco swallowed. There was a flaw in her plan. Relationships weren't something you prepared for, something you studied in books, something that needed time. Time, actually, was an enemy. "But … I don't think this," awkwardly, he waved his hand between them, "is something to ever be ready for."

Hermione just smiled, and Draco suddenly understood that she knew that, but she wanted to give it time anyway.

"No!" he growled, taking a split-second decision. "Fuck that. Last time, we were sensible. This time, we listen to our hearts." Hermione's eyes widened in surprise when Draco grabbed her and pulled her onto his lap. But she didn't try to pull away or struggle free.

"We've wasted enough time," he added hoarsely, crushing his lips to hers. He didn't let her go, even when she tried to push him away. But, after a few seconds, she melted into his kiss. He could feel how she let herself be drowned in the sensation, just like he had before.

For the lack of air, he finally released her and smiled crookedly. "Good or bad?"

She only stared at him, eyes slightly narrowed. "You are such a devious, devious wizard, you know that?"

"And you are a total goody-two-shoes," he smiled sweetly.

"Ferret."

"Bookworm."

Hermione sighed. "Fine. _Fine_. Just kiss me, and we'll deal with the rest tomorrow."

Draco knew he had won for now. Grinning happily like a maniac, he did as he was told.

* * *

When Hermione woke the next morning, she felt oddly content and comfortable. She tried to relish in this moment as long as she could, keeping her eyes closed and snuggling deeper into the warmth of her bed. But all of a sudden, the last evening with Draco came back to her and she froze. Very carefully, she peered through her lashes and saw blond hair and pale skin right in front of her.

 _Shite_.

How could she have been this stupid? Just because she had craved Draco, craved how he made her feel, she had given in like a spineless fool. What was she supposed to do now? Sneak out?

No, this was her bedroom, her apartment. She didn't need to be ashamed. They had done this before, after all. But she still didn't know how to face Draco once he was awake. Maybe he had changed his mind since yesterday. Maybe all their words had been empty and meaningless. Maybe …

"Stop thinking," a familiar voice whispered sleepily.

Draco was awake. _Bugger_. "Er…" Hermione muttered eloquently.

She noticed him moving and jolted into a sitting position. His hair was chaotic, but hers was probably worse. His eyes, though, were shining with happiness. "You're still doing it," he said, a crooked smile settling onto his lips.

"Am not," she replied hastily, her eyes darting to the door. "I need to go to work."

"Hey!" Before she could leave the bed, Draco grabbed her wrist and held her back. "Don't overthink this, please."

What was that supposed to mean? Frowning, she looked back at him, scrutinising him.

When she didn't react, he whispered, "Please, don't regret it. We can keep it casual if you want. No responsibility." Hermione pulled at her wrist and he let go. Quickly, she robbed away from him, the bed sheets pressed to her body.

She didn't outright regret it, just worried about its meaning. Did _he_ want to keep it casual – like friends-with-benefits-casual? But he expected an answer. Wrapping her arms protectively around her chest, she finally said, "I've never had something casual."

"Then let's try," Draco said, forcing a smile.

"No!" she contradicted a tad too quickly. She only knew that this was not what she wanted.

His eyebrows arched in surprise. "No?"

"No," Hermione confirmed, blinking unsurely. "I don't want something casual. But that doesn't mean we have to be anything, yet."

"Oh, love." He rolled his eyes. "You don't think I'll commit to this."

Instead of an answer, Hermione freed herself from the sheets and headed to the bathroom. Before he could react, she had locked the door behind herself. Taking a deep breath, she leaned against the tiled wall and tried to think. But she couldn't. Her mind was blank.

She heard Draco standing outside the door, breathing. "Don't run," he pleaded lowly, his voice muffled.

She wasn't running. She just didn't know what to do. But she was a Gryffindor, and she would face this!

A determined expression on her face, Hermione put on her dressing gown and unlocked the door. When she stepped outside, Draco had put some pants on and a T-Shirt, looking as smashing as ever. But she didn't dare to meet his gaze, afraid what she might find.

"Hermione," he said in a reasoning voice. "Please, just let us try. Please." Suddenly his voice broke. "I – I don't know what to do without you."

"But it was so easy for you to leave," she whispered, crossing her arms in front of her chest, as if to hold herself together.

"And it was so easy for you to lie," he replied quietly.

Her head snapped towards him. "It wasn't easy at all," she said sharply, her arms falling back to her sides.

"Then you know how hard it was for me." His expression was open, sincere, but also a little sad.

Hermione sighed.

"What is it you want to hear?" he asked huskily, making a desperate step towards her. She could almost feel his despair, his need for her.

"I don't know. There's so much in my head." Her hands fluttered to her temples, as if to rub them, but then she stopped in mid-movement. "I can't get over the way you hurt me, but I miss you so much that it's physical pain to me. And now that I had you for a short time, it'll be twice as hard to be without you again. I don't want to break because of it," she said weakly.

"I'm sorry. You know that," Draco replied, his voice barely a whisper, his face suddenly blank.

Hermione nodded almost imperceptibly. She knew.

But then, suddenly, a thought crept into her mind and infested it like a disease. And the disease was hope. There was the distinct possibility that Draco might not leave her, after all. Maybe she was worrying for nothing.

Hermione wished for nothing else – just for him to be beside her, to love her back.

So she took her courage in both hands and said as firmly as she could, "But you're right. We've wasted so much time."

Draco looked up and their gazes locked. Cautiously, she stepped closer until she could almost touch him. "I love you, Draco Malfoy."

His face lit up with pure joy. "And I love you, Hermione Granger," he replied.

"Good," she smiled. Now that she had taken a decision, everything felt much lighter, straightforward somehow.

"What does that mean now?" Draco asked, a nervous undertone in his voice.

Hermione's grin broadened. "We'll figure it out."

Then she kissed him with all her passion, because every minute without his touch was a wasted minute.

* * *

 **Please review!**


	39. Chapter 39

**A/N: So, for one last time, guys: I want to thank EVERYONE who reviewed, favourited, and followed this story. (I think for a first fic the outcome wasn't too bad.) Well, I hope I brought many of you joy with this story.**

 **I also want to thank my betas, TheDaringInferno and Cecelia Everhart! Thank you for your work.**

 **I've been asked about a sequel and all I can tell you is that, yes, I have ideas for a continuation of their love story, BUT I'm in the process of writing another, quite dark, story. So until that is finished, there'll be no sequel. I'm not even sure if my ideas will make a whole story. Maybe it'll just be a series of short stories that are posted in chapters, as a kind of a sequel. I promise I'll keep you posted.**

 **Now, a last note on this chapter. I'm sorry, but writing endings is not one of my strengths. I wanted to tie up a few loose ends, but leave it open enough for a sequel. I'm sorry it's not as romantic as it could be.**

 **Well, after this sheer endless author's note - enjoy the last chapter!**

* * *

39\. Epilogue: Time to move

Draco stormed into Blaise's lab without even bothering to knock. "Hey mate, wanna grab some lunch?"

Blaise, who had been working concentrated over his cauldron, flinched in surprise. "Bloody hell, Draco!" he snapped, glaring at his friend. "Within a hair's breadth, I'd have put in another drop of the Dragon Blood! I've told you a million times to not waltz in here like that! The potion could've –"

" _Exploded_. I know!" Draco finished Blaise's sentence, rolling his eyes. In his opinion, his friend was wildly exaggerating.

Blaise narrowed his eyes, then, abruptly, turned back to his cauldron. "Why are you in the ministry anyway? I thought you never wanted to step another foot in here and live off your Malfoy fortune?" he enquired drily, roughly stirring the simmering potion. A few drops splashed over the edge and fell to the floor, leaving burning marks on the stone.

"True." Draco shrugged. "But plans can change. I'll tell you if you have lunch with me," he added, grinning mischievously.

Blaise groaned and shot his friend a dark look. "You're insufferable. _Fine_. Just let me finish this."

Green smoke was already welling up from the cauldron and the stench of rotten eggs penetrated Draco's nostrils. He really didn't know what the finished product would smell like, so he nodded and left the potion's lab to wait for his friend outside.

Five minutes later, they were on their way to the café they normally frequented. Draco could feel his friend's gaze on him the whole time and tried to look as expressionless as possible. But as soon as they sat down, Blaise blurted out, "It's about Hermione, isn't it?"

A frown furrowed Draco's brow. "Er," he murmured eloquently. "What makes you say that?"

Blaise grinned cheekily. "You have that look on your face."

"What look? I don't have a look on my face!" Draco protested, turning to the window as if to check his reflection.

"Of course, you do." Blaise laughed. "You have the 'something-happened-with-Hermione-look' on your face."

Draco's head snapped back towards him, his eyes wide. How could he have known? "Well, something _did_ happen with Hermione," he finally admitted a little reluctantly.

A triumphant smile flickered across Blaise's features, but he concealed it quickly. "Enlighten me," he said drily, knowing that Draco felt the burning desire to tell him all about it.

Draco cleared his throat, putting in a dramatic pause; then he said, "In a nutshell, my mother had bequeathed Hermione with an old Black heirloom, which made her accidentally tell me that she's still in love with me." He couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips.

This seemed to genuinely surprise his friend. "What?" he asked, agape.

"Don't look so surprised. I told you I'm irresistible."

The dark-skinned wizard rolled his eyes. "Oh, yeah. I forgot. What happened next?"

Draco only smiled smugly and took a sip of his Earl Grey. Impatiently, Blaise began to tap his fingers on the table. He was just about to say something, when Draco continued. "Well, I told her that I loved her still, and then … kissed her and …" His voice quavered a little. "In the end, I might've stayed the night." Although he seemed cool and a little smug on the surface, it looked very different inside of him. A part of him still couldn't believe all of this had really happened. However, another, much greater, part was so ecstatic he felt like screaming it out to the whole world.

Blaise's mouth fell open again. "You're kidding me, right? She would've never ever forgiven you so easily."

Draco flinched back, his smile vanishing. Blaise's words managed to burst his little bubble of happiness just like that. He swallowed, his fingers tightening around the tea cup. "I don't think Hermione has forgiven me, but she will. I know she will." He nodded, as if to not only convince Blaise but himself. "I know I messed up. But I won't let her down again." He hoped with all his heart that these words were true. He knew he would fight for her, do anything for her; _anything_ to not lose her again.

Blaise raised one sceptical eyebrow, but said nothing.

"Don't you understand?" Draco asked forcefully. "She still wants me. She still loves me. Everything'll be alright. I'll work it out."

Blaise slowly shook his head. "What about her past? You don't think it'll … interfere?"

"How do you know about that?" Draco gasped, his eyes widening. Blaise did know? Hermione wouldn't say a word to him, but she had talked to _Blaise_? A little pang of jealousy shot through his chest.

A troubled expression appeared on Blaise's face. "Hermione told me, okay?" He bit his lip. "Don't be mad. It was when you were in the hospital, and … there was nobody left to protect her from Skeeter. So I offered my help."

Draco gritted his teeth. " _I_ would've protected her."

His friend sighed because they both knew that Draco was wrong. Back then, he hadn't been able to protect Hermione, even if he had wanted to. "I'm sorry, mate. You never asked." Blaise shrugged. "Anyway, you didn't answer my question."

Draco glared at him. Of course, he wouldn't go round, 'mentioning' Hermione's past or ask somebody if they knew about her secret, not even his best friend. However, Blaise's question was valid. Her secrecy, her past, had wrecked their relationship before, but not this time.

He swallowed his anger and replied, "No, it won't interfere. I understand it now, everything. I won't let her push me away again. I can protect her from the flashbacks and the nightmares, and help her deal with it, get over it." Draco shifted on his chair, feeling a little uncomfortable speaking about that yet. He and Hermione hadn't really talked everything over. Quickly, he changed the subject. "As you've mentioned Skeeter – any news from her?"

Blaise narrowed his eyes, but accepted the question. "I've told you months ago that she doesn't seem to be continuing her story. Her source apparently isn't talking anymore."

Draco nodded stiffly. Blaise still didn't know that Draco's father had been the source, and Draco didn't plan on telling him anytime soon. So far, it seemed Lucius had really stopped informing on Hermione. But why would he? Draco wasn't sure. Maybe because Lucius thought he had won – Draco and Hermione had broken up, so he didn't need to fear any marriage or – _Merlin forbid_! – children. But, on the other side, Lucius would love to see her get torn apart by the papers, just to spite Draco.

" _And_ ," Blaise grinned, interrupting Draco's pondering, "Tracey finally – I mean _might've_ – managed to destroy some of Skeeter's notes."

Draco forced a wan smile. "Thank her for me."

A little of the tension left Draco when he realised that Skeeter seemed to be in abeyance for now. One worry less. And Blaise seemed to be back on speaking terms with Tracey. That was good news, wasn't it?

"Will do. What about Hermione's friends?" Blaise asked casually, taking a sip of his coffee, but watching Draco closely.

"They won't dare to meddle again. They saw how miserable she was," Draco said firmly, even though he wasn't completely sure of it. He could imagine Molly Weasley blurting out something derogatory about him, provoking another fight between her and Hermione. But then, he also knew that Mrs Weasley loved Hermione, so she might pull herself together for her sake. So he added confidently, "It'll work out, believe me."

Blaise nodded, not completely convinced either, but trying to play along with it.

Suddenly, a thought crossed Draco's mind, and he began grinning like an infatuated maniac. " _And_ she kept the ring."

"Ring?" Blaise echoed, a confused frown appearing on his face.

Draco only smirked, winking at his friend. He simply knew he and Hermione would make it through.

 _All was going to be well._

* * *

"So, sweetie, what's going on?" Ginny asked pointedly, putting her teacup back down on the table.

"How do you know something's going on?" Hermione replied innocently, appearing suddenly very interested in the picture of a Scottish landscape that decorated the wall of the café where they had met for lunch.

"Because you have your 'something's-up-face' on," Ginny deadpanned.

Hermione's head snapped back towards her. "My what-face?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Stop stalling and spill!" she said, a demanding undertone in her voice.

Hermione inhaled deeply, staring down at her clasped hands. "Well … I don't know where to start." The silver ring on her finger seemed to shine especially bright. Hermione was sure Ginny would notice it, but so far, she hadn't.

"At the beginning," Ginny commented drily, turning to check baby Lily in the pram. But the baby girl was still sleeping peacefully. Quickly, she turned her attention back to the other witch.

Hermione took in a deep breath, considered her words carefully, and opened her mouth to answer, but then paused. Finally, she pulled herself together, telling Ginny everything that had happened since Christmas: the letters from Narcissa, the ring, the promise, and the days after Narcissa's death, until she reached yesterday evening. Ginny's eyes grew bigger with every word, especially when she explained the magical properties of the Black ring.

"Narcissa really gave you that ring?" Ginny asked incredulously, pronouncing every word with extra emphasis.

"Hm, hm." Hermione nodded. "And then – well, I might've let it slip that I love him."

"You – ?" Ginny interrupted herself. She didn't seem to be sure if she should be excited or horrified. "And then?" she asked breathlessly.

Hermione quickly took a sip from her coffee, drawing out the seconds until she had to reply. "And then, Draco told me that he loved me, too. The next second, he was kissing me, which made me feel all … _aw_ inside – you know?"

"Hm." Ginny nodded, her mouth slightly open, expectantly waiting for more. Her whole body was tense with anticipation and she was leaning forward over the table to catch every word Hermione uttered.

"And then we – ugh – might've ended up in bed together," Hermione admitted, peering up at the other girl through her lashes, a little nervous about her reaction.

"Hermione Granger," Ginny laughed. "That's a good thing." But noticing Hermione's look, she quickly amended, "Isn't it? I thought that's what you wanted."

Hermione raked her fingers through her hair, thinking. Yes, it was what she wanted. But that wasn't the whole story. Quietly, she replied, "The problem is Draco's hurting and he's using me for comfort. But what will happen when he's better?" Her voice broke on the last syllable, betraying her fear. She was glad that she knew now how they felt for each other, but she couldn't really trust his feelings yet, couldn't so easily trust in their new, fragile relationship.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Don't you dare to chicken out of this relationship and find stupid excuses, just because you're scared he might hurt you again."

"But if he leaves me – or something goes wrong …" Hermione swallowed thickly. "I won't survive that."

Ginny reached out and took Hermione's hand in her own, squeezing it reassuringly. "Sweetie, you can't avoid getting hurt. That's love. You get hurt, you're vulnerable, but it also makes you insanely happy."

Hermione regarded her friend intently for a few seconds, pondering her words. But then a slight smile crept onto her face. "Maybe you're right. I'm ready for a bit of insane happiness."

Ginny laughed heartily, squeezing Hermione's fingers one last time and then drawing back her hand. "Good. But I can't believe how easily you've forgiven that git." A flash of anger flickered across her face, but she hid it quickly.

Hermione pressed her lips together, staring down at the milky liquid in her cup. "I don't know if I have. But I know that I must and that I will." She glanced up and smiled at the other girl. "Thank you, Gin."

"That's what I'm here for. By the way, is that the infamous ring on your finger?"

Hermione squinted at the flashing emerald and nodded. Slowly, she took the ring off and handed it to Ginny.

Slowly, Ginny turned it around in her fingers and held it against the light as if to check its authenticity. Tracing the intertwined bands of silver, she looked back up and eyed Hermione questioningly. "Why are you wearing it?"

Hermione smiled dreamily, remembering this morning. A warm feeling spread in her chest when she thought about Draco, about his words, about his smile. "Just before I wanted to leave today, Draco stopped me and put the ring on my finger. He told me that his mother wanted me to have it and that I should wear it no matter what it stood for." Her smile broadened. "As a sign of trust, he gave me its counterpart – the ring he's supposed to wear. This way I'd know that my feelings for him are real and not magically enhanced or anything."

Ginny smiled as if she looked at a cute, adorable kitten, not at Hermione. At least she didn't say ' _aw'_. "How can you still doubt him?" she asked, apparently forgetting that she had been mad at Draco just a second ago.

Hermione shrugged.

"Well, don't. He's perfect." Ginny tilted her head. "But … what about –?" She bit her lip, unsure if she should continue.

Hermione sighed. "You mean Viktor?"

Ginny nodded silently.

Hermione paused, choosing her words carefully. "I think I'm better now. I didn't have nightmares for a few weeks and no more flashbacks. He won't … interfere, like he has before. We'll be okay." That Draco knew the truth about her past now lifted a heavy burden from her shoulders. There would be no more misunderstandings, nor fear, nor arguments about it. She wouldn't fool herself with thinking that she was completely over it, but she knew she might be one day with Draco's help.

"Oh, sweetie, that's great," Ginny smiled warmly. "I need to tell Harry all about it."

Hermione winced. "Oh, but … what about Ron and your mum?"

Ginny narrowed her eyes, a dangerous looked appearing on her face. "They won't dare to make a scene again. They all saw how miserable you were without Draco." Her tone carried a silent threat –that if her family chose to meddle, she wouldn't stand by idly.

"I couldn't fool you, could I?" Hermione whispered.

"Not even for a second."Ginny smiled softly.

Hermione clasped her hands around the cup and took a large gulp of coffee. "So, do you think it'll all work out?" she asked pointedly casual.

"It will, Mione. Don't worry," Ginny replied reassuringly. "All's going to be well."

 _Ginny might be right_ , Hermione thought. She and Draco were finally able to talk to each other like normal people, without turning their life into a soap opera.

With every moment they spent together, Hermione realised how empty her life had been without him and that she never wanted to feel that emptiness again; that absence, that lostness, inside of her that threatened to expand and engulf her. She wanted Draco to be there forever. Even if he had hurt her, she had hurt him, too; and they would probably hurt each other again, but she didn't care anymore. She wanted to wake up next to him every morning. Not once, in the previous days, had she thought he was Viktor or remembered anything from her past. Maybe because the break up with Draco had hurt so much more than what Viktor had done to her. (Besides, she was dead-sure now that Draco would never hurt her physically, even when he was drunk or out of control.) It was time to move on from her past, time for a brighter future. Maybe now, with Draco, she could have everything she had ever wanted.

Hermione couldn't explain it, but somehow she agreed with her redheaded friend.

 _All was going to be well._

* * *

 **Let me say it one last time: please review!**

 **PS: Love and virtual chocolate to all my readers!**

 **PPS: Cookies with extra chocolate to Sherlock H. Winchester for reviewing every single chapter! (::) (::)**

 **\- CP :)**


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